


To Kenny-Sort of, Kind of, Not really.

by Extra_Fries



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Because this is South Park, Child Neglect, Craig Tucker Being An Asshole, Domestic Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Intricate plans for no reason, Kenny McCormick trying his best, Kyle and Stan are relationship goals, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past creek, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Team Bebe (Reluctant Team Clyde), Team Cartman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:45:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extra_Fries/pseuds/Extra_Fries
Summary: Kenny McCormick wants to meet his Soulmate. Craig is less than pleased.So, in order to make things difficult, everyone gets involved.Of course, this includes intricately made plans and even more complicated people butting heads.





	1. Chapter 1

“Does God love everybody?” Craig asked his father as he reached across a bowl of carrot sticks for the last social tea biscuit. Thomas Tucker looked up from his Saturday paper. He always looked up when someone mentioned God. It was a reflex, as if he was about to be slapped. Even two-year-old Tricia was quiet, playing with a couple of cheerios while seated in her high chair.

“Of course he does,” Laura Tucker replied, pausing in her ironing. Thomas finally let his gaze float down to his six-year-old son.

“Does God love murderers?” Craig continued and Karen gurgled.

“Yes,” she said, without looking at Craig.  Thomas tutted loudly.

“Burglars?” Craig said.

“Yes.”

“Poo?” Craig asked and Tricia giggled, a wide gap-toothed smile on her chapped lips.

“Poo’s not a living thing,” Laura Tucker said dismissively.

“But if it was, would he love it?” Craig urged.

Laura sighed. “Yes, I guess he would.”

Craig looked down at the cookie he had just taken. It was resting on his plate between two piles of jam; strawberry and raspberry. This conversation wasn’t helping. It seemed God loved everyone, except him.  He dropped his finger into the mound of raspberry jam and started to pick out all the little seeds hidden within it.

“Stop playing with your food, Craig,” Thomas said. Craig did as he was told, rubbing his dirty finger against his pant leg. “Your napkin is on the table, use it instead of your pants.”

“I’m not going to Sunday school anymore,” Craig said.

"I thought you liked it?” Laura asked idly.

“Not really. I only like the choir,” And that was only sometimes when the other children in the choir actually hit the right notes.

“Any reason?” Laura questioned and Craig could hear the edge in her voice. It was always subtly laced in her words, dancing off her tongue whenever she addressed Craig. However, now it was more prominent. His tongue felt like sandpaper as it wiped against his dry lips.

“Nope,” Craig said, effectively clamming up. Laura’s posture was rigid, almost as if she was anticipating an attack. Craig’s eyes didn’t make any contact with hers, only grazed her form every now and then. He rubbed his thumbs against his index fingers idly.

 

It really was a misunderstanding. All Craig suggested was that Jesus Christ had been a mistake, that’s all. An unplanned pregnancy.

“ _Unplanned?_ ” His Sunday school teacher seethed. She was old and wrinkly, like a raisin left out in the sun. “And where did you get such—such blasphemous notions from, you horrible child?”

Craig never heard a word like ‘blasphemous’ before and could only think it was saved for really negative situations. “I don’t know. It was just an idea.”

“An idea,” The woman repeated. She clucked, her tongue leaving the roof of her mouth with a slick pop. “Do you seriously think God loves children who question his Divine Plan? Who have ‘just an idea’ that degrades all of his work? Well, I’ll tell you--” and her arm shot out and pointed towards Craig’s banishment. “--he doesn't. Corner,” she said and Craig wandered over to the chair facing the damp, crumbling pastel yellow wall.

He sat there thinking about the night before when his father crept into his bedroom and said, “I want to talk to you about something, Craig. It’s something—well, it’s about what your cousin keeps telling you. About you being a mistake.”

Craig remembered Rebecca and her incessant need to call him ‘unwanted’.

“Well, you weren’t a mistake,” Thomas said, “just unplanned. We weren’t expecting you. To turn up, I mean.”

Craig nodded. “Like Jesus?”

"Exactly,” said Thomas carelessly. “Exactly like Jesus. It was a miracle when you arrived. The greatest miracle that ever happened to us.”

Thomas didn’t say anything about the other things Rebecca said and Craig didn’t ask. It scared him to think that it was all true. That the days Laura spent sequestered in her room were his fault. That every pill she swallowed was an indication of his guilt. He sat there, upright, staring at the hunched figure of his father. In the dark, Craig couldn’t see his features clearly. He haunted the space beside his bed. Craig decided that Thomas’ silence was as much admittance as he needed. His mother’s illness was on his head. That night, Thomas brushed Craig’s black hair out of his face and kissed his forehead for the first time.

Thomas Tucker folded his newspaper in two before putting some piled up papers from the table into his battered briefcase. He approached Craig, bending down on one knee beside the chair Craig was seated in. Craig could hear Tricia bumbling excitedly but his gaze was focused on his father.

“You don’t have to go to Sunday school or Church for God to love you,” he said. “Or for _anyone_ to love you. You know that right, Craig? God loves unconditionally.”

“Yes,” Craig replied, not fully believing him. You will always have their love, Craig. Don’t ever think you need to work for it. It’s _unconditional._ What a load of bullcrap.

“You’ll understand that more when you’re older,” he added but Craig couldn’t wait that long. He already concluded that God didn’t love him and banished him just like his Sunday school teacher. He was only a smudge of blue in God’s peripheral. Even his mother was contaminated by her son, removing him as systematically as a doctor would remove a tumor.

Unconditional love just didn’t exist.

He scratched at the soul mark written on his hip. It appeared two nights ago and since then it would not stop itching. This sentence would one day lead him to the ‘love of his life’. Craig felt it underneath his finger nails and shivered, a frown contorting his face. He continued to scratch at it obsessively.

 

*

 

Kenny McCormick drew pictures of what he thought his Soulmate might look like. Sometimes his drawings were of pretty little stick girls with orange hair and green eyes, other times little stick boys with brown hair. He wondered if they’d like Red Racer. They _had_ to like Red Racer.

Kyle and Stan were Soulmates. They told Kenny they found out a week ago. They were only ten but Kyle’s parents and Stan’s parents were very supportive and they celebrated by throwing Kyle and Stan a party. Kenny was invited but he didn’t want to go.  He was watching a Sparrow outside happily chirping away when his mother, Carol, turned to him.

“Why don’t you wanna go?” Carol asked him. Kenny shrugged.

“I feel awkward.”

“Why, Kenny? Kyle and Stan are your friends, don’t ya wanna go and support them? Besides, there might be cake. And I know how much you like that.”

“Of course I do,” Kenny replied with a sigh. “I just feel like a third wheel; you know?”

Kenny was currently drawing another possible Soulmate portrait. This one was of a boy with a big smile drawn across his face.

“I don’t think you should feel like that,” Carol replied. She looked at the picture her son was drawing and said, “Can I see that?”

Kenny nodded and his mother took the paper in her dainty fingers. “This is amazing Kenny, is that another one of your friends?”

“Nope,” Kenny said.

“Who is it then?”

“My Soulmate. He has a big smile on his face because he found out I like Red Racer.”

Carol sat on the living room floor with her youngest son. She watched him pick up a black crayon and add some strands of hair onto his stick man’s head. “Kenny, are you jealous of Stan and Kyle?”

Kenny grimaced, his crayon falling out of his hand and onto the carpet. “No! Mom, I’m not jealous of them. They’re my friends!”

“I know that,” Carol said. “You can still be jealous of them though.”

“I just want to know my Soulmate too. It would be pretty awesome if we all had our Soulmates. Then, we could all hang out together.”

Carol smiled and ran her fingers through her son’s hair. “I bet yours isn’t too far away. When your dad and I found out we were Soulmates, we were in junior high. We knew each other for years without knowing.”

“Do you really love dad?” Kenny asked seriously.

“Of course I do, Kenny. Your dad can be—” Carol broke off mid-thought. “—difficult.” Her hand stopped carding through Kenny’s hair only for it to continue a moment after she finished her thought. “You know, I love your father. That’s why I’d never leave him. He needs constant support, sweetie. One day, he’ll get himself together.”

Dad sure could be “difficult”.  Kenny was reminded of just last week when he and his little sister Karen hid in a pile of clothes in Kenny’s closet. Stuart came home drunk enough that he forgot the way home and was driven back by Officer Barbrady who was also at Skeeter’s all night. Karen’s head was propped against Kenny’s shoulder while Kenny was chewing on a popsicle stick that he got off a cheap popsicle from Stan’s house.  The walls rattled. He could hear every word of the argument brewing in the living room downstairs. Every shout. Kenny could feel Karen’s dirt-stained knees trembling beside him until she finally fell asleep. Kenny remained awake, waiting, drinking in the details of the tiny closet, the musty clothes, and the facial features of his little sister.

“But you get hurt when you love dad,” Kenny reasoned.

“Love hurts, Kenny,” Carol whispered. She cradled Kenny’s head closer, leaning him back so that he was draped over her lap and he was looking up at her face, “but sometimes, you find a love so unconditional that no matter what happens—no matter how bad things get or how much you say you hate each other—you hold onto it. It’s the only chance you got.”

She picked up the drawing which lay on the floor beside her. “This could be who you’re waiting for. But once you find them, you should never let them go.”

“Never?”

“Nope,” Carol smiled. “Because it hurts a lot more when you lose them.”

Kenny looked at his mother. Really looked. Admired the blue bruise blossoming on her cheek and the swollen skin around her eye. Her lips were pretty, thin and pink. Not chapped like his. Her freckles started along the bridge of her nose and collected on her cheeks like a stream unlike Kenny’s which were in random bursts. He smiled.

His Soulmate wouldn’t hurt him like that, he decided. His Soulmate would make him feel alive.  His eyes wandered back to the sparrow who flicked his wings twice before flying up beyond the telephone lines.


	2. Strange Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig makes some strange discoveries

_There are approximately 7 billion 636 million 605 thousand people living on this tiny planet. Each one has a Soul Mark, a sentence that will lead them to an unconditional connection. This world lives off connections, off patterns that lead to an ultimate end design. They’re hidden in plain sight, considered common and unconnected, untouched by each other._

_There’s a Chinese myth about the Red String of Fate. It says that the gods have tied every person’s ankles and attached it to all the people whose lives they’re destined to touch even in the slightest. All in certain situations, pre-determined by mathematical probability. This myth is said to be one of the many in relation to Soulmates._

_Craig Tucker has been alive for 17 years, 9 months, 20 days, and 18 hours. He hasn't met his Soulmate yet and he already hates them._

 When Craig finished writing these observations, he lifted his pencil from his notebook, cementing the period in its place. The notes themselves were based on an ethics assignment his class had gotten: to write about your thoughts on a certain theme. His teacher, Ms. Boone, said that it was easier to analyze your own thoughts if you took yourself out of the equation. One of the rules of the assignment was to not use any 'I's or 'My's or 'Me's which Craig found confusing and hard to do. He heard a loud, abrupt whistle and realized it came from Coach Ramsey, signalling the end of football practice. Craig sat to the side of the gymnasium exit, waiting, re-reading his thoughts on “Soulmates”.

  _Soul Marks are a universal thing, treated as commonly as a birthmark. They predict a future that is inevitable, permanent, like the Red Thread. The sentence can be written on any part of the body and is something that the holder’s Soulmate is bound to say at some point in time. The sentence could be the first thing your Soulmate ever says to you or your Soulmate could be someone you know for years before they even say your Mark._

_This sentence marks how your lives are bound to touch._

 Craig thought about his own Soul Mark, wrapped around his hipbone, and immediately grimaced in disgust. Judging by what was written on his body, Craig wouldn’t enjoy meeting his Soulmate too much.

_“Hey cutie, can I touch that booty?”_

It should come as no surprise that Craig hid his Soul Mark as a kid. He didn’t look at it in the mirror or trace the letters with his fingers. He pretended it wasn’t there and ignored its existence. He was pretty sure that if anyone found out what his Soul Mark said, he'd have to either fight them or put up with the unending torment only children can initiate. His parents weren’t the type to celebrate the mark while kids like Kyle Broflovski and Stan Marsh had their relationship paraded around after they discovered they were Soulmates. Craig’s mother didn’t care to know what the sentence said and Craig’s father claimed it was a personal matter.

Unfortunately for Craig, his Soulmate had a booty fetish and it was plastered on his body for anyone to see if they looked far enough. To save himself the humiliation, Craig never changed in public and always wore a belt in case some kid came along trying to pants as many people as possible. Not an uncommon occurrence in South Park High. There was part of Craig that hoped his sentence was a lyric to a song or something shitty like that but he was pretty sure that the little imp the sentence belonged to would one day use it as a pick up line.

*

Craig tried his best to ignore all talk of his Soulmate but Clyde Donovan, his best friend, was intrigued by the idea of someone as stoic and hardheaded as Craig having a Soulmate. He bothered Craig to see it non-stop and, finally, he broke down Craig’s resolve after two months of hardcore begging

“You gotta show it to me, dude,” Clyde said as Craig walked him home. Clyde was afraid of walking home alone in the dark so Craig was forced to wait for up to three hours after school while the brunette was at football practice with their friend Token. Token had his father pick him up after school and Token’s father thought Clyde was a big mouth so Token didn’t offer to carpool. Anyway, staying after school was a great chance for Craig to finish his homework without Tricia and her friend Karen distracting him. They were eleven now and hell-bent on stealing the television in Craig’s room the moment he stepped through the front door. 

“I-I don’t have to show it to you,” Craig replied in an annoyed huff.

“Where is it anyway? It’s not on your dick or something, is it?

“—God, Clyde—!“

“—Cartman told me his cousin had his sentence written on his dick. It’s not that bad! There are other people out there with a Soul Mark written on their dicks!”

Craig nudged him, causing Clyde to lose his balance and nearly topple off the sidewalk. Caig sighed deeply as Clyde regained his momentum, “Jesus Christ, it isn’t on my dick.”

Clyde pulled on the hem of his varsity jacket. “Well, why can’t I see it then?”

“’Cause you don’t need to see it,” Craig hissed. He pulled ahead and walked faster.

“C-Craig! Don’t leave me behind!” Clyde yelped as he ran to catch up to him.

They stayed quiet for exactly three minutes, walking underneath the street lamps littering South Park. The streets were quiet save for a few dogs barking and cars passing by. Their high beams shocked Craig’s eyes momentarily, causing him to see white flashes when he blinked. Craig breathed in the cool, pine infused air and looked up at the few stars scattered across the sky.

“Can I _please_ see it?” Clyde asked in a whisper and Craig wanted to punch him.

He turned on his heels and stared at the brunette who immediately stopped in his tracks. “You really wanna see it _that_ badly?”

“We’re best friends, man, and I’ve never seen your Soulmate’s sentence! I could probably know them and not even know that they are your Soulmate!”

Craig considered this was true. Out of the two of them, Clyde was the social butterfly. Clyde loved being in the limelight and he usually was due to his high school social status. Clyde was a Receiver on their high school football team and his Soulmate was Bebe Stevens, Captain of the Cheer Squad. Clyde was kind and a bit slow at times. When he and Craig first become friends, most of the other kids Clyde knew were shocked. Craig was Clyde’s complete opposite, he was difficult to read, quiet, and calculated. However, if you wanted Clyde, he was usually with Craig. Craig came with the property.

“C’mon just one look. I promise, I won’t say anything,” Clyde whined. “Bebe’s sentence was probably waaaaay worse than yours.”

 

Bebe’s sentence was ‘You’ve got snot all over your fucking face’ and it was said while Clyde was crying when they were all thirteen. Since South Park was a small town, Craig and Clyde weren’t exposed to any new people. The neighbourhood kids grew up as a unit, sharing the same classes and the same playgrounds. It wasn’t too long before Clyde became known as South Park’s number one crybaby. He was a soft-hearted kid easily influenced by how other people saw him. The other kids saw Clyde as an easy target. It became a game—see who could make Clyde cry before dinnertime.

Bebe found Clyde after he was kicked out of the eighth grade wide game by Eric Cartman and although Craig left the game with him, Clyde was traumatized by the entire event. He broke down crying and Bebe happened to be walking by with her friend Wendy.

“You’ve got snot all over your fucking face,” she said, smiling over at them. “You’re way hotter than Cartman, even when you cry. Cheer up.” 

Craig remembered fondly that Clyde passed out from the stress of it all, causing Craig to laugh until his stomach hurt. Wendy and Bebe, on the other hand, were scared for Clyde’s well-being. Finally, Craig explained the situation to the girls and the two stuck around until Clyde came to two minutes later.

When he sat up, he and Bebe shared their first chaste peck even if Clyde hadn’t said Bebe’s soul mark yet.

 

Craig rolled his eyes. “Mine’s definitely worse.”

“It’s that bad? Now I have to see it.”

“Fine. But you have to promise not to judge or say anything about it to _anyone_. Not even Bebe.”

Clyde snorted. “If I told Bebe, I wouldn’t have to tell anyone else. Now lift up your shirt I want to see it.”

“Clyde, you’re a bigger blabbermouth than Bebe. I’m risking my ass just showing you my hip.”

Clyde blushed. “Shut up, bro! I’m totally better than Bebe! I’ll keep my lips locked! I promise!”

Craig sighed deeply before lifting up his shirt and turning so that Clyde could see his waist. The lettering and spacing of the entire sentence tattooed on his skin could be considered pretty if it weren’t for the cringe factor the pickup line possessed. Clyde didn’t say anything.

He looked up at Craig, his smile quivering. His face turned redder and redder until he burst out laughing. Craig pulled his shirt down and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Fucking hilarious.”

“That,” he said, pointing to Craig’s hip, “is waaaaaaaaaay worse than Bebe’s sentence.”

“Told you.”

“You fucking win, bud. I’ve never seen a sentence this bad before.”

“So, do you have any idea who it could be?” Craig asked before adding, “Only because I really want to punch that dipshit. You know I don’t believe this Soulmate crap.”

Clyde grimaced slightly, totally believing the so-called ‘Soulmate crap’. “Um, maybe one of the Asian girls? I don’t talk to them a lot but I know they’re a bit…feisty.”

“I don’t think so,” Craig replied. “They enjoyed pairing me up with Tweek a little too much to suddenly want me for themselves.”

“There’s only one other person I can think of,” Clyde concluded as they walked onwards. They were nearing their houses which were conveniently next to each other. Craig knew that as soon as Clyde got home, he had to call Bebe to let her know that he was home safe and sound. After that, Clyde would be on the phone and lost to him for the rest of the night.

“Who?” He asked.

“Kenny. Kenny is that type of guy for sure. He’s an ass man,” Clyde said. “But Kenny’s with Tammy Warner so that makes no sense.” 

Kenny McCormick was in an on and off relationship with Tammy Warner and had been for years. Craig didn’t bother keeping up with the rumour mill anymore. Kenny said they were Soulmates so it was impossible for him to be Craig’s.

“Whatever,” Craig said as they came up to Clyde’s front porch. “Whoever it is, I’ll meet them some day.”

Clyde smiled. “There’s no way you can’t. That sentence is stuck on you and besides, you can hear them too, remember?”

“Hear them?” Craig asked curiously.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Clyde exclaimed. “God, Craig. Did you even pay attention in our Soulmate Link class?”

That class had been merged with their sixth grade Sex Education class because Mr. Mackey said that was the best way to talk about both taboo subjects without having to add another separate class to the school’s curriculum or make the parents sign more paperwork. The only Soulmate Link/Sex Ed. class Craig didn’t sleep through was the one where Mr. Mackey demonstrated the proper way to wear a condom by unrolling one on the handle of a broomstick.  

“Can’t say I did.”

Clyde sighed, “Your mind is connected to your Soulmate’s mind. Like, sometimes, if I think real hard in a quiet place or like I focus hard enough, I can hear what Bebe’s thinking about. Now, I gotta call the pretty lady. See you in the morning, Craiggo.”

“G’night, Clyde,” Craig said as he turned on his heels, walked down Clyde’s front walkway, and cut across the lawn to his house.

As he walked in, he noticed the living room light was off but the television was on, illuminating the form of Thomas Tucker, watching Pawn Masters while nursing a Budweiser.

 “Where’s mom?” Craig asked him.

 “In her room,” Thomas replied in a distracted manner. Craig’s father was couch ridden almost a month ago. “I tried to talk to her and it didn’t work out.”

 

 Craig avoided the obvious answer: _It never works out._ Instead, he said nothing. His mother’s postpartum psychosis haunted the family ever since he came into the picture. Back then, it was only a few minor episodes that Thomas vaguely mentioned but never went into any detail about. Laura went, got treatment, and got better. With the medication, Laura was still able to work, go out with her family, and be a relatively normal if emotionally detached mother.

It returned with a vengeance when Tricia was born. She was a summer baby, born at the crack of dawn in the middle of a heat wave that lasted two weeks. The moment Laura went into labor thirty-six hours before Tricia finally popped out, Craig was taken in by his Uncle Skeeter and Skeeter's daughter, Rebecca. Skeeter was Thomas’ older brother and Rebecca was only a few months younger than Craig. Rebecca was cold and she kept Craig at arm’s length at all times. Rebecca made sure Skeeter sat between her and Craig in order to avoid talking to him. During school hours, Rebecca hardly gave Craig the time of day. The only interactions Craig remembered occurring between himself and Rebecca were the ones in which she called him a 'mistake'.

"Your Daddy told my Daddy that you were an 'unplanned pregnancy'," she said as Craig waited for news from the hospital. "That means your Mommy wasn't planning on having you."

"Rebecca," Skeeter said, shocked that his daughter would say something like that.

"So?" Craig said defensively.

"So, you're a mistake," she snapped, putting extra emphasis on the 'Miss-Take'. "And you should've been aborted."

Skeeter sent her up to her room for that one. Rebecca heard the word from one of the sixth graders. Of course, Rebecca continued to call Craig a 'Miss-Take' when Skeeter wasn't around. By the time they entered the sixth grade, Rebecca gave up her name-calling. She became more and more unapproachable as she got older, after she decided to go by 'Red' instead of 'Rebecca'. Tricia called 'Red' Rebecca's angsty teenager name.

Craig met Tricia when she was two days old and promised himself that he would help take care of her. When his Mother’s attention started to wane, Craig noticed. He swooped in, helping Thomas give Tricia baths and change her. He loved to push Tricia’s little swing bed the most. The greatest thing about it was that it sat in the living room near the couch and right in front of the T.V. so Craig could watch Red Racer while lulling Tricia to sleep.

One day, Craig was rocking Tricia while watching Looney Tunes when Laura entered the living room. Craig always considered his mother a proper lady. She wore the right things and looked the right way; clean and untouched like the pictures in Home Décor books. She prided herself in her appearance and this was the first time Craig could describe Laura Tucker as worse for wear. Her eyes were dark and red rimmed, her skin had a slight rash at the neck, and it looked like she scratched at it intensely since she had angry, red gashes starting from her chin and ending at the breast line of her nightgown.

She approached Tricia and Craig. She loomed over Craig and stared down at Tricia, who blinked languidly. Craig had been trying to get her to sleep for an hour. Laura tilted her head. “She’s mocking me.”

“Mom?” Craig asked, looking up at her curiously.

“Can’t you see it, Craig?” She said, bending down and scooching up to the rocker. “Look at that little smile on her face.”

“Mommy, Tricia isn’t smiling,” he answered. Tricia wasn’t much of a smiler unless you made her laugh anyway.

Tricia’s lip puckered and Laura cried out, “There! Right there! She—She—“

Thomas raced into the room from the kitchen at his wife’s outcry. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

“Look at your daughter!” Laura screeched, “She’s grinning! She’s—She’s laughing at me, Thomas!”

Thomas changed his pace, now approaching very slowly. “Oh, yeah? Let me see.”

“Okay…okay,” Laura mumbled, moving away from her two children and allowing Thomas to look at Tricia.  Craig watched on, his interest peaked. His father looked at Tricia blankly and looked back at Laura.

“She’s fine, honey. She’s not laughing at you, I promise.”

“You—You weren’t there!” She said quickly. “Craig was there, Craig saw it. Didn’t you, son?”

Craig looked between both of his parents, no longer rocking Tricia. “I—I—”

“Don’t put him in the middle of this, Laura.”

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” Laura shouted and Craig flinched. Tricia started whimpering which made Craig rock her more. Thomas approached his wife, his Soulmate, and took her hand gently.

 “It’s okay, Laura. Would you like a cup of tea?” Thomas asked.

 “Y-yes,” Laura stammered and she was brought into the kitchen as delicately as a dustpan filled with fragments of glass.

 

Before taking another sip of his beer, Thomas said, “I’m trying to help her, buddy.” 

Thomas never called Craig ‘buddy’ or ‘champ’ when he was younger. Not like the other boys in South Park who had pet names like 'honey' or 'sweetheart'. In fact, Thomas was indifferent throughout Craig’s early childhood, only showing his love for his son when it was necessary and his mother’s obsessive mothering and not mothering became too much. Thomas didn’t attend baseball games or go to parent teacher interviews. Neither did Craig's mother. Craig didn’t have bonding moments or sappy long-winded conversations with his parents and didn’t need any as far as he was concerned.  For a time, Mr. Mackey, the Sex-Ed slash Soulmate expert was actually Craig’s guidance counselor and free quote unquote psychiatrist. He worked for both South Park Elementary and South Park High School, alternating between the two every few days. When Craig started high school, Thomas scheduled Craig and Tricia in for regular sessions with Mr. Mackey because he thought his children were too withdrawn. Although they didn’t make  more appointments with Mr. Mackey than their father deemed necessary, Mr. Mackey said his office was always open. Craig replied that his parents were the ones that needed to be in therapy.

“Did I miss a family meal?” Craig asked, fighting hard to keep his sarcasm at bay. They all knew that Laura was the better chef out of the two. Thomas tried his hardest but anything he made usually had a thick, burnt outer shell. Laura only cooked when she was feeling herself which was one out of ten days. Laura was stubborn when it came to taking her medication. After a period of calm, Laura would stop taking the medication only to fall back into the same habits and the same horrible feelings. Then, she’d start taking the pills again. This made her very unpredictable and caused her mood swings to be very violent. One moment, she would be active and talkative and the next withdrawn into her own little world, making her children feel as insignificant as silkworms.

“Fend for yourself,” Thomas sulked.

“Do we have Kraft Dinner?” Craig asked.

“Your sister finished the last box. She’s upstairs with Karen.”

Craig padded into the kitchen, throwing open the refrigerator and staring at its contents. Milk, cheese strings, an apple, miscellaneous leftover containers, rotting vegetables. He closed the fridge door and decided that he would clean it if he found the time later on. He went to the pantry and pulled the cabinet doors open. There, he found a half-eaten container of Oreos that he pulled out.

He closed the doors and marched into the living room again. “Are we ever going to have a filled refrigerator?”

Thomas looked up slowly, his frown darkening his face. “I really wish you two wouldn’t patronize me. Your mom’s in a tough place. She has been ever since you and Karen showed up. You know how hard this is for me.”

Of course it was _their_ fault. Craig caused it and Tricia only made it worse. Over the years, Craig tamed his face to hardly show disappointment. The only indication Craig gave to Thomas that the comment had hurt was turning his back and walking up the stairs.

“Craig? I didn’t mean that, buddy—” Thomas mumbled, cutting off his own thought with a deep sigh.

As Craig passed by the doorway to his mother’s room, he peeked his head in and could just make out the shape of his mother engulfed in torrents of sheets and clothes. “Did you take your pills?”

His mother’s head rose and fell. Craig was used to her not looking at him. Finally, she spoke up, “Yes.”

He turned away and started walking towards his room. He avoided Tricia’s room like a plague. He could hear her and Karen giggling about something as he passed by her door on the way. Karen McCormick basically lived with them at this point. While Craig dealt with his parents by acting cold and aloof, Tricia depended on Karen’s optimistic outlook and fed on it like a spider would a dying fly. With anyone else, Tricia was stone cold. Maybe even worse off than Craig was. But with Karen, Tricia’s mood brightened considerably and Craig was happy for her.

He tiptoed into his room and closed the door as slowly as possible in order for Tricia not to hear him. Once he got in, he tossed his bag to the side, slipped his shoes off, and went to lie down on his bed. The moment his head touched his pillow, someone knocked on his door.

He winced and whispered, “Fuck.”

“Craig? Are you home?” Tricia asked.

Craig let out a small, “Yes.”

“Can Karen and I come in? Your room is the only other room with a TV in it. I tried asking dad.”

Craig sighed and shifted into a sitting position. It was a good thing his homework was finished. He got up and opened the door for the two eleven-year-olds who scurried in like mice and sat down on the scratchy carpeted floor of his room. 

“Thanks, Craig,” Karen mumbled from where she sat.

“I consider you a slightly better than average brother now,” Tricia said, grabbing a pillow off Craig’s bed to sit on.

“So, now I have a C+? That’s a pretty good grade where brothers are concerned,” Craig replied.

“Kenny is the best big brother ever,” Karen said from where she sat as Tricia searched for the remote control.

“Oh yeah? What makes him the best Karen?” Craig asked, his features softening when he noticed the adoration leaking off Karen.

“He always tries to help me with my homework, even if he’s no good at it. Kenny walks me to the bus stop to make sure I get to the school alright. He even used to walk me to your place before I told him I was old enough to walk myself! Kenny reads tons of stories to me at night and even makes his own up—“

“—And he has a super embarrassing nickname for you,” Tricia snickered, finding the remote and hooting in triumph. 

“Tricia! You said you wouldn’t tell anyone about that,” Karen mumbled, turning bright red.

“Don’t worry, it’s just Craig,” Tricia said simply. Craig didn’t have many people to tell except Tweek, Clyde, Token, or maybe Jimmy. 

Karen’s eyes went straight to the carpet that she pulled on with her dainty little fingers, “It’s Kare-Bear.”

Craig snorted with amusement. “Don’t worry, that’s a cute nickname Karen. I have nicknames for Tricia.”

“Do you?”

“Yep, I usually call her Devil Child or The Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Tricia grimaced, “You take that back!”

“Make me,” Craig taunted as he flipped her off.

Almost immediately, Tricia flipped her brother the bird and sat back with her head hitting his bed. She turned the television on and flipped through the channels until she stopped at MTV. Then, they started watching the end of a marathon of _Drunk History_.

“You know,” Craig said as they watched the reenactment of Alexander Hamilton cussing out his nemesis Aaron Burr, “this show isn’t really for twelve-year-olds.”

“It’s fucking funny,” Tricia replied. Craig tossed his seventh cookie into his mouth.

“It is pretty funny,” Karen said, looking back at Craig. “Kenny would probably like it.”

“You don’t have much channels at your place do you?” Tricia asked her and Karen shook her head.

“Well, if you want, you can always bring Kenny along and he can just hang with Craig and watch TV with us!”

“What?” Craig said incredulously. “I don’t even—“

“Seriously? That’s so nice of you guys!” Karen replied, her eyes wide and happy. Craig felt it difficult to deny the smaller of the two girls and her honey brown puppy eyes. Finally, he looked away from her earnest gaze and nodded without saying another word.

After two episodes of _Drunk History_ , the show changed to _The Simpsons_. Craig had finished his cookies and was sprawled out on his bed contentedly. Karen yawned.

“I think it’s time for you guys to go back to your room and try to get some sleep,” Craig said.

“Yeah, Karen looks tired,” Tricia retorted, “but I wanna stay and watch.”

“No, Trish,” Craig replied. “Karen is your friend so you’re responsible for her. Just like I’m responsible for Tweek and Clyde when they come over. You go to bed too.”

 Tricia sighed, “Fine. Let’s go, Karen. Thanks for letting us watch, Craig.”

Karen waved to Craig and said, “Sleep tight, Craig.”

Craig waved back unenthusiastically. Tricia lead her friend out of his room and shut the door behind her. Craig knew that they would go to Tricia’s room and read some _Teen Vogue_ magazines Tricia bought with the ‘allowance’ she stole from their parents’ wallets when they left them out but Craig didn’t care enough to make sure they went to sleep. He wanted to go to bed without Bart Simpson’s annoying laugh going off every few minutes. He turned the television off and placed the remote on the television mantel.  He shimmied out of his jeans and pulled his hoodie off his body. He never wore undershirts and only slept in his boxers most of the time. He left the discarded clothes in a pile on the floor

He heard a mixture of a squeak and a whine and turned to Spike the Third’s cage which was beside the television.

“Hey, you lazy little shit,” Craig smiled as he opened the top of the cage and reached inside, picking up his guinea pig and holding it in his line of vision. “You didn’t say a word when I came in.”

The rodent purred as Craig tickled his head and put his fat little body on the carpet. “Don’t eat the carpet.”

He opened the front panel of the cage and placed a little plastic ramp in front of the opening so that Stripe could walk in and out as he pleased. Underneath his bed was off- limits to Stripe since Stripe liked to hide in his bed frame when Craig was trying to catch him and put him back in the cage. It was now bordered off with plastic mesh he’d gotten at the department store on the way home from school. 

Stripe cooed as he explored the floor of Craig’s room. Craig turned off his light and jumped onto his bed to avoid the little rodent scurrying around. He laid back and looked up at the little plastic stars littering his ceiling. The television downstairs acted like calming background music and the sounds of Karen and Tricia whispering and giggling made him even more relaxed. 

Suddenly, his eyes flew open when he heard the lyrics to Justin Bieber’s ‘ _2U_ ’ being sung by a voice that definitely wasn't his. 

_“When it comes to you_

_Don’t be blind_

_Watch me speak from my heart_

_When it comes to you_

_Comes to you.”_

He was shocked by the voice. It shifted in and out of focus, as if Craig’s mind was caught between two radio stations. The sound alternating between the activity in his home and the singing caught in his mind.

*

His Soulmate was now singing _‘Love Yourself’_ at midnight and Craig was completely pissed off.  How did he know this was his Soulmate? He remembered Clyde’s stupid mind link comment. The only downside? He couldn’t figure out how to turn the damn thing off. He had to wake up in seven hours, couldn’t his Soulmate be a little more considerate?

It got to the point where Craig had his pillow wrapped around his head but he could still make out the pretty male voice singing, _“You should go and love yourself.”_

He got up and walked over to his desk. He wasn’t worried about Stripe, he heard the little rodent get tired of exploring hours ago and hop right back into his cage. He sat at his desk and opened up his laptop.

He logged onto his Twitter and posted an angry tweet that read, _“Yeah. To my Soulmate, could you please stop singing Justin Bieber? You might as well be singing the Wayfair commercial jingle. So annoying.”_

He huffed, closed the laptop, then went back to bed. He could still hear the vibrant voice ringing in his ears, _“Oh baby, you should go and love yourself.”_

_“And if you think that I’m still holding on to something,_

_You should go and love yourself.”_

At some point, between Charlie Puth’s and Dua Lipa’s top tracks, Craig fell asleep and woke up almost immediately to the sound of his Darth Vader alarm clock blaring ‘ _The Imperial March’_.

“Shit, goddamn it. Fucking Soulmate and his fucking singing,” Craig hissed miserably against his pillow. “Goddamn dickwad. Shitface.”

He nearly punched his alarm clock before immediately falling back asleep.

When he awoke, he shot up like a lightning bolt and looked at his clock. It was nearly eight and he was so fucking late.

Then, his phone vibrated. It was Clyde who eerily texted, “ _Look out your window.”_

Their bedrooms shared a view to each other’s windows. So Clyde was always a curtain away. He pulled his curtains open and saw Clyde at his window grinning cheekily. Craig rolled his eyes and opened the window so he could hear him.

“Your post last night was really funny,” Clyde said. “Bebe sang better music but bad news is, she’s tone deaf.”

“You wouldn’t find it that funny if all you could hear was ‘ _Love Yourself’_ until 1:30 in the morning.”

“Ouch,” Clyde snickered. “I guess it was really stuck in their head wasn’t it?”

“So was Dua Lipa, Selena Gomez, and so much more.”

“Man you’re gonna have to teach them about Injury Reserve!” Clyde cleared his throat, took a deep, deep breath, before shouting out, “OH MY GOD! I AIN’T DONE SHIT ALL MY LIFE! I’M ABOUT TO SPEND FOUR’BOUT FIVE! I’M ABOUT TO SPEND ALL THIS MONEY!”

He cracked up and Craig gave him the most intimidating glare he could muster with this little sleep.

“If I wasn’t this tired, I would come over and punch you,” He growled to which Clyde yelped and shut his window.

Immediately, his phone buzzed in retaliation and Craig read, _“That song has the raddest beat tho. It’s a bop.”_

Reluctantly, Craig started to get ready. In order to wake himself up, he took his iPod from where it was hidden underneath his pillow. As he was choosing a song, he could hear Karen and Tricia playing around in the hall.

“We have to tie our hair in the same style, Trish!” Karen exclaimed. “Do you like French Braids? Or ponytails?”

“Yeah! Uhm, I like them both. Mom lets me wear lip gloss and stuff so I can let you borrow some if you want?”

‘Mom’ saw Tricia wear makeup once. She looked at her daughter’s cheeks and said, “Your foundation isn’t blended correctly.” This made Tricia believe that Laura was encouraging her self-expression.

“You wear makeup?” Karen asked, her voice layered with awe.

Craig sighed again, deeply enraged at the world, and plucked his headphones out from where they were plugged in his laptop. He plugged them into the audio dock on his phone and pressed play on the Gorillaz song at the start of his playlist.

_“I’m a pale imitator of a boy in the sky_

_With a cap in his head and a knot in his tie,_

_I’m the light in the mall when the power is gone_

_The shadow in the corner just playing along,_

_I’m only laying in my bed, I’m rolling aside_

_But if I get a car, a moment to ride,_

_Because I know if I ever shared a living of you_

_You've gotta volunteer, and you don't know what to do—”_

 Craig rubbed his eyes as he listened and concluded that he should kick Tricia and Karen out of the bathroom to take a five-minute shower. He got up and left the room. He walked barefoot along the hallway, hearing only James Murphy’s chorus as he padded along the wooden floorboards. He reached the bathroom door and scratched his neck before lifting one of the sides of his headphones off his ear. 

He knocked on the door loudly and shouted, “Tricia, get the hell out, I need to take a shower.”

“Fuck off, Craig! We were here first!” She proclaimed loudly. Craig tried the door but it was locked from the inside.

“Fuck!” Craig cussed as he knocked harder.

“Craig! Your sister and her friend were in there first,” Thomas called from the kitchen and Craig held his tongue.

“Guess I won’t be showering then,” He muttered, scowling. He placed the headphone over his ear, marched back into his room, and slammed the door.

_“—New word, onomatopoeia,_

_Quit actin’ like you don’t wanna be here_

_Fuck around and get jumped like leap year,_

_Glock and a glove make you really wanna_

_Leave me alone,_

_Get the fuck on, gone._

_Okay, Okay, Okay, back to the happy song—“_ _  
_

Craig grabbed a new pair of boxers and replaced his old pair with ease, careful to avoid looking at the sentence on his hip. Then, he grabbed a pair of black skinny jeans and pulled them on immediately. He searched through his drawers for a t-shirt and found a Pink Floyd one he hadn’t worn for a while. He shrugged it on over his headphone wire and grabbed the dark blue hoodie off the floor and pulled that on over his head.

He walked over to the mirror on his closet door and stared at his sleep deprived self before glowering at his reflection and grabbing a hair tie from where it hung on his wrist. He never lost them since they were always on his wrist along with the several thread friendship bracelets Tweek had made him over the years. Tweek liked that he hardly ever took them off. He tied his hair into a little rat tail to avoid its greasiness slipping out from under his hat. Then, he wondered where his chullo hat even was.

He had it walking home, had it coming in, had it when Karen and Tricia came in, but by the time his Soulmate started singing, it was gone. He pulled his bedspread off his bed and found the hat laying on his mattress.

“Aha, can’t hide from me,” he smirked as he tugged his headphones down to rest them against his neck. He put his hat on, grabbed his bag which he hadn’t touched since the day before, and made his way downstairs where Thomas was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the local newspaper. Thomas was a creature of habit.

“Did you make yourself a lunch?” Thomas asked idly.

“No, don’t have the time. Clyde will be here in a few—” Craig’s front door swung open.

“Oh hi, Mister Tucker!” Clyde called from the doorway, causing Craig to click his tongue.

“—seconds. Literally.”

Thomas nodded and thumbed the next page of the newspaper. Craig walked over to the entryway and grimaced when he realized that he left his go-to pair of Vans upstairs so he had to settle for his Converse instead. He grabbed them and left the house, choosing to pull them on as he sat on the front porch.

“C’mon, we’re going to be late for the bus,” Clyde squawked when Craig stood up. The brunette grabbed his wrist and started pulling him along the sidewalk towards the bus stop.

They made it to the bus stop with two minutes to spare. Clyde spent those two minutes glancing down at his phone while Craig spent them hunched over and breathing heavily.

“You gotta work on your cardio, man.”

“Fuck cardio,” Craig rasped.

“Okay then. Someone woke up on the grouchy side of the bed this morning. By the way, your music is still on.”

Craig pulled his headphone wire out of the audio dock, causing his iPod to pause midway through a new song. He pulled the wire out through the top of his shirt and thread it back to his iPod but instead of listening to the device, he turned it off.

“Does your dad not like me or something? He didn’t even answer this morning,” Clyde said, looking up from his phone.

Craig sighed. “He’s like that with everyone. Don’t take it too personally. Mom’s been off too so he’s not really social.”

Clyde nodded and didn’t continue with the subject, he never strayed on the subject of mothers for too long. “Do you have gym today? Because that means I have gym today and that would fucking suck.”

“You don’t have practice tonight so I don’t see why it would suck but yeah we do. Third period.” 

“God fucking damn it.”

“I thought you liked Gym.”

“I do, but I don’t want to be there today because Stan is there.”

“You having problems with Marsh?” Craig asked.

“No. Fuck no, man. It’s just he acts so condescending sometimes. Like, last night at practice he just acted like a dipshit and it made me want to bash his face in.”

“What did he say?”

Clyde shrugged. “He just asks questions all the time like he’s interrogating me or something. It’s always like, ‘You’re friends with Craig right? Do you talk with Token outside class? Do you all hang out sometimes? What do you do? What do you like? Where do you go? Do Craig and Token like that? Does Tweek?’ Shit like that. It gets annoying.”

Craig raised his eyebrow. “Seems suspicious.”

“Pretty pathetic if you ask me. If he wants answers, why not just ask you guys?”

Craig didn’t answer.

A yellow school bus stopped and let them on. As soon as Clyde got on, Bebe sent him a flirtatious wave and scooted over to let him sit beside her. Clyde did so and looked up at Craig before mouthing ‘sorry’. Craig rolled his eyes. Clyde and Craig hadn’t sat beside each other on the bus since he started officially dating Bebe in the eighth grade. Craig never took it personally that Clyde wanted to sit with her but Clyde always apologized for his actions. Craig walked on over to the back and sat on the last row. A few rows ahead, he saw the back of Cartman’s fat head and Kenny’s orange hood. Kenny always wore his ratty parka, even in the heat that came from early spring.

“Christ, Kinny, we need to fucking talk about that fucking necklace. It makes you look super gay,” Cartman said.

“Karen gave it to me,” the blond said defensively.

“Let him wear whatever he wants, you fat fuck,” Kyle Broflowski growled from where he sat with his Soulmate Stan Marsh.

“Stop it, Kyle, Kenny doesn’t care anyway,” Stan replied. "Kenny isn't gay so he shouldn't take offence, right?"

"That's not how that works, Stan," Kyle grumbled.

“Oh? Karen gave it to you?” Cartman asked. “Guess that makes it a little less gay. Sort of.”

“Speaking of gay and shit, I haven’t heard about Tammy in a while, are you guys okay?” Kyle questioned.

“Oh yeah, uhm,” Kenny muttered, he glanced at Stan for a second. “Well, she actually recently moved to Denver so we’re kind of in a long distance thing right now.”

Bebe gasped from where she was seated with Clyde. “Oh my god, Kenny, you are such a saint. I can’t imagine being in a long distance relationship even if it is with my Soulmate.”

“So, if I had to move to Denver, you’d break up with me?” Clyde asked as Bebe looked at him.

“Sorry, babe, it would be too hard for me. I need physical touch in a relationship and doing it over Skype or having to drive over to get it is too much.”

Clyde muttered a little but Bebe nuzzled her head into his side and calmed him immediately.

“You aren’t moving, babe. I’d never let you go anywhere without me,” she insisted.

“It wasn’t something I had any control over,” Kenny insisted. “Her dad finally got a new job so I can’t really blame them all for moving.”

Craig pulled his headphones back on and listened to some more music drowning out all the shit he could care less about.

 *

 When they reached the school, he saw Tweek’s father’s car pull up in a ratty old Ford.  The bus pulled up and started letting students off. He lifted his phone from his lap and composed a short text to Tweek. 

_“Meet me in front of the bus_.”

He saw Tweek’s fluffy head of blond hair emerge from the inside of the car. He was wearing dark blue jeans that were ripped at the knee and a brown hoody that was way too big for his lithe body. He stopped at the front of the bus and watched people coming out. Craig got to his feet, slugged his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out.

“H-hey!” Tweek mumbled as Craig stepped off the bus. “How are you? I-I read your p-post last night. Must’ve been pretty annoying.”

“Damn straight. I haven’t heard so much Justin Bieber since I last turned on the radio. Why were you up so late? Coffee binge?”

“Y-yeah, they always replay the t-top 40,” Tweek agreed. “I have a Western Civilizations test now, so I needed the coffee to st-study. I-I saw Clyde get off the bus with Bebe. They’re still going steady. Hope he studied for the test, I’m not letting him copy o-off me this time.”

Tweek had become so comfortable around Craig over the years that he stopped stumbling over his words so much when he was around the black haired boy. The twitching was becoming less frequent too. It helped that Tweek was drinking a lot less coffee, a suggestion Craig had made that Tweek had finally taken seriously. Tweek could actually speak full sentences now without twitching or pulling on his hair manically and Craig relished in the fact that he had played a giant role in Tweek’s newfound confidence.

“Yep, that’s annoying too for other reasons,” Craig said and Tweek snickered.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Bebe,” he said teasingly. Tweek had also become much bolder and more willing to lay his life on the line.

“Don’t say shit like that,” Craig muttered. “People have died for less.”

Tweek went quiet, his face soured with a small frown. Craig wondered for a moment if he caused that frown.

He stopped walking. Tweek would've known he was joking right? Normally, Tweek would give him an annoyed eye roll. "Uh, Tweekers? You alright?"

"Oh. It's n-not you, Craig, look over there."

When Tweek was disgusted by something, his nose would wrinkle like a rabbit’s and it was full on twitching.  Craig followed his glance over to some picnic tables where Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman were talking to Butters Stotch. Butters was easily the most manipulated kid in South Park and it often made Tweek mad to see others taking advantage of his genuine kindness. Butters and Tweek shared lots of classes this semester and Craig knew that they were close.

Tweek breathed out, “I really w-want to say something but—Gah—i-it’s w-way too much…too much pressure!”

“He’ll be fine, Tweekers, Butters deals with those guys all the time,” Craig said, urging Tweek towards the school entrance.

Craig looked on the scene with mild interest. Then, Kenny looked back and their eyes locked. Craig knew Kenny was infamous in their community. The fourth harbinger of bullshit. But even without his three friends, Craig was convinced Kenny would be some sort of romantic pariah, getting high in the bathroom and reading poetry books from book exchange booths. Kind of like a modern day Huckleberry Finn; free, dirt-poor, and always skipping class.

Kenny’s family wasn’t well-off and everyone was quick to tell him that he was the dirt beneath their shoes. The only reason no one battered Kenny down a peg or two was Cartman. Kenny was safe under Cartman’s wing. Nobody went against Cartman and got away with it scot-free. This was the kid that fed another kid his parents in the form of a warm bowl of chili. That's a comforting image, right there. Cartman was the kind of guy you didn’t want to go up against and so was Kenny. Not to mention Stan was the Quarterback of their high school football team so you didn’t want to fight him and Kyle was the biggest rat in South Park. Kenny was untouchable.

It helped Kenny’s case that he was a looker. He had the ability to seduce anyone he wanted and was intelligent in the way he did so. He wasn’t the most beautiful person but he was interesting in a way that made people stop and look. Kenny could’ve easily been one of the most cunning people in South Park although people refused to acknowledge his gifts. Kenny also had the uncanny ability to disappear at moments too, choosing to ditch school for weeks at a time and only attend when it pleased him. Craig was surprised he was still passing.

Craig turned his eyes away and heard a sharp, high pitched whistle come from the flirty blond.

“Hey cutie, can I touch that booty?”


	3. A Happy Trip for Fast Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde decides to be the best bro by cheering Craig up and getting some ice cream.

Craig decided he was going to vomit. The only problem with that was that he hadn’t eaten since last night and he was pretty sure the Oreos were far enough in his digestive track to not come back up. There was another part of Craig that wanted to kick Kenny's ass into a pulp for even suggesting that he was Tammy Warner's Soulmate when he was obviously  _Craig's_  but Craig concluded that part of his mind was in extreme hysterics. His hip was burning like a poison ivy rash and Craig knew that it was fading from his skin. He found his Soulmate. He turned around and looked at Kenny, who was smirking sassily with his hip cocked. Suddenly, Kenny’s smirk vanished completely, taken over by a concerned frown. Craig could only guess how deeply this moment had broken down his normal indifference.

_He_ was taken. Why the fuck was this happening?

“You...” Craig gasped out, his heart stuttering and his head going fuzzy. “You fucking shitty ass dick.”

Suddenly, a switch flipped on in Craig’s mind. The fight or flight switch. Craig turned around, grabbed Tweek’s hand, and pulled him into the school, pushing past the other students crowding their way. Tweek nearly tripped a couple of times but Craig kept going, only loosening his grip when they passed the threshold of the school and neared Tweek's locker.

“Wh-what the hell h-happened?” Tweek screeched at him, pulling his hand away when they reached his locker. Tweek wasn’t used to emotional outbursts from Craig and they caught him off-guard. Craig didn’t express his emotions unless they were loud and angry.

“I need to go see the nurse,” Craig lied to throw Tweek off his tail. He was planning a Houdini-style escape. He left Tweek wide eyed and confused at his locker before slinking through the halls and packs of students to the nurse’s office. 

He didn’t stop there, choosing instead to duck through the emergency exit that was right next to said office that went out to the back of the school. He went down the stairway two steps at a time which Tweek claimed was dangerous but Craig’s legs were a lot longer than Tweek’s so his footsteps were naturally longer. He emerged from the exit and stepped to the right, hunching down, staring at the gravel below him. He gagged, coughing up nothing and wishing there was something in his stomach that he could get rid of. Instead, he dry-heaved until tears were stinging his eyes and sweat was clinging to the brim of his hat. He took a few moments to compose himself before leaning against the cold brick and slipping down until his butt touched the gravel. He reached into the front pocket of his bag with shaky hands and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a dollar store lighter. He lit one of the cigarettes and immediately took a drag.

He breathed heavily and clumsily, as if his lungs were smaller than those of a hamster. He wondered if Kenny noticed it too. Wondered if he could hear and feel the surprised alarm bells going off inside Craig’s head the moment he noticed how blue the blonde’s eyes were and how his messy, self-cut hair could have easily rivalled Tweek’s in terms of fluffiness. 

He pulled off his hat and hair tie in one motion and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. No, he wouldn’t think about Kenny Fucking McCormick. He noticed his cigarette was starting to get ashy and flicked it against the brick wall of the school before taking another inhale.

He did what the only thing he thought he could; he texted Clyde.

_“Dude. Fucking emergency. Outside. Now. I took the Nurse’s emergency exit.”_

Clyde didn’t take more than a minute to reply, “ _Brooooooo. We’re totally ditching class aren’t we? Fuckin A.”_

Clyde came running out of the school faster than humanly possible. He paused, taking a deep breath before stating, “I left Bebe in my dust, man. I’m damn pissed at her about saying she’d dump me if I moved away.”

“Dude, I have a really big problem.”

“What happened?” Clyde asked as he dropped to the gravel beside him.

“Kenny is my Soulmate.”

Clyde choked on the air he was breathing and collapsed in a fit of coughing.

“Fucking’ A,” Craig scowled as he took another deep drag of his cigarette.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not fucking kidding, dumbass. Do you think this is something I do when I’m kidding?”

“No, you never smoke unless the occasion calls for it,” Clyde responded automatically and without thinking. Then, he thought about it. “Holy shit you must be serious then.”

“Bingo.”

“What are we going to do?” It always turned into the royal ‘we’.

“Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”

Clyde looked at him incredulously, “But you need to do something, man. I don’t even understand what’s happening anymore. I thought Tammy Warner was Kenny’s Soulmate. That’s what Kenny told Stan and like everyone else at school. But you would have two sentences if you were Polyamorous.”

“I’m definitely not poly. I’m not even fully interested.”

“Exactly, so Kenny must be lying about Tammy. Maybe they’re just dating and he doesn’t want to tell anyone. Dating people other than your Soulmate is kind of iffy.”

Craig avoided getting into a heated conversation with Clyde about choosing to date someone who wasn’t your Soulmate. Unlike most people, Craig encouraged dating outside of Soulmate bonds. He knew Clyde thought it was a dirty, almost cringe worthy act. Clyde was one of the only students in their grade who hadn't experimented sexually or romantically before finding his Soulmate. Other people included Stan, Kyle, and Craig himself. Clyde's opinion was a commonly upheld one. It was slightly unnecessary to have sex or do anything with someone when the best sex you'll ever have in your life is right around the corner. Hypothetically. Craig held his tongue between his front teeth and sighed. He wouldn't be having this fight with his best friend.

Instead, Craig took a second to acknowledge the twinge of bitterness that entered his heart the moment Clyde mentioned Tammy and Kenny still dating despite not being Soulmates. He hated himself for feeling that way.

Craig heard a zipper zipping open as Clyde opened up his bag. Clyde handed him an apple.

“Eat it, you didn’t have breakfast and you look like you’re going to kick the bucket,” he said.

Craig took the apple and Clyde demanded to have the cigarette which Craig gave him curiously, wondering why he wanted it in the first place. Clyde never smoked. He claimed it was bad for his athletic lungs. Clyde held it between two fingers and raised it to his lips like he was in a film noir from the 1950s. Clyde took a drag as Craig took a bite of the apple. Or at least, Clyde attempted to. He only kept it together for a few seconds before he started to cough uncontrollably which made Craig laugh and almost lose the bite of apple he was chewing.

“God,” Clyde said hoarsely, his eyes watering, “why the hell would you smoke this?”

Craig took the time to properly swallow before answering, “It’s easier after the first few times.”

Clyde wiped his face, rubbed the cigarette out against the wall, and stood up. “C’mon, if we’re skipping for a bit, we need to make it worthwhile.”

“We need to make it back for lunch or else Tweek will get worried. ‘sides you need to go to Gym and ignore the hell out of Stan.”

“And you’ll ignore Kenny?”

“Like the fucking Black Plague.”

Clyde grinned. “Wanna go get ice cream?”

“Clyde Donovan. There are no ice cream parlours open at ten-to-nine in the morning.”

“That’s shit. Oh, Oh! Mickey D’s gots the good stuff. And guess what? They’re open twenty-four seven, baby! We gotta sneak back to my place and get the car though.”

Clyde learned how to drive the moment he was able to start studying for his license. His little beat up Honda wasn’t a lot but it certainly made Clyde feel good. Clyde held out his hand to Craig and Craig took it. His best friend helped him to his feet and grinned widely.

“Now, let’s get out of this shit hole!” Clyde shouted and ran off towards the edge of the school grounds, his backpack banging against his back. Craig rolled his eyes, ditched the apple, and ran after him with his bag slumped over his shoulder. When they reached the end of the school grounds, they climbed the eight-foot-tall fence that separated them from normal society and proceeded to walk to Clyde’s house, a walk that both could do blindfolded. All the way there, Clyde blasted an odd mixture of Radiohead and Drake that made Craig’s head hurt but also made him snort with laughter.

It was a near fifteen minutes of walking before the house came in sight and Clyde sobered up completely. He zipped his lips, locked them, and threw away the key before marching forward and Craig watched apathetically, wondering how they ever became friends in the first place.

Craig followed Clyde until Clyde stopped suddenly in front of his own house and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Great, Dad isn’t home. His car would be out otherwise. Now, we just need to go in the garage and take out Wanda.” 

Oh yeah. He named his car Wanda after the Fairly Odd Parents character. Craig knew that Wanda, even with her pink curly hair and star wand, was Clyde’s first crush. Before Bebe, Clyde was hopelessly infatuated with the cartoon character and couldn’t stand Cosmo, her idiot husband.

He took the garage door remote out from the front pocket of his bag and Craig watched as Wanda was revealed to him. 

It was a second hand red Honda Civic Si 2000 that Clyde got for a cheap price off some relatives. The bumper was done in and the mileage wasn’t great but it let Clyde go out to the McDonald's near the gas station on the outskirts of town without having to ask to borrow his dad’s car. Clyde’s car remote couldn’t unlock the car doors automatically. The button to unlock was pressed in and wouldn’t do anything no matter how hard you pushed it. So, Clyde had to unlock the driver’s side with his key and unlock the passenger’s side door manually. When he did, Craig hopped in and fastened his seatbelt right away. Clyde gave him the remote control for the garage. Clyde took a few moments to put the key in the ignition and turn the car on before putting on his seatbelt. Once he did, he pulled out of his family’s driveway and told Craig to press the button to close the garage door. They watched as it closed because Clyde was paranoid and watched way too many horror movies. 

“Don’t turn on the radio,” Clyde warned as he began to drive down the road. “I have an awesome CD that you’ll want to listen to.”

The mix Clyde made started with ‘Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ by Arctic Monkeys a song that caught Craig on his toes but Clyde’s taste in music always caught him off guard. For a guy who pretended to only like The Chainsmokers and other mainstream artists, Clyde was a closeted Indie lover. He loved pop music and music that wasn’t necessarily broadcasted on the radio and that you’d have to go to a run-down club to listen to live. Right after Artic Monkeys came Death Grips’ ‘Guillotine’, Ghostemane’s ‘Mercury’, ‘Take Me’ by Miso, and ‘Bassline Junkie’ by Dizzee Rascal. Clyde also had an affinity for anime, J-Pop, and Japanese Fashion. One thing he fell head over heels for was the dance duo AyaBambi. Clyde had called Craig in a fit of tears the day he realized that the Vogue dance duo had broken up, romantically and professionally. He was depressed for a month after that incident. 

Right in the middle of ‘Bassline Junkie’, Clyde found the McDonalds and asked Craig, “Do you think we should stop or drive through?”

“Stop. I didn’t go this far just to go back to South Park.”

“MAH MAN!” Clyde shrieked. “I’m gonna hug you once this car is parked, I swear.”

Craig recoiled. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t worry,” Clyde replied with a bright smile. “I know you love me more than most people.”

“I hate most other people,” Craig replied.

“That’s how I know you love me!”

“If that makes you happy.”

Clyde drove right into a parking space rather than back into one because he claimed that backing into one was a bitch and he didn’t have that rearview camera feature that modern cars have.

“I gotta park the old fashion way and we both know I’m not into the old fashion way.”

“Yep too vanilla for you, right Clyde?”

Clyde paused in his parking job and looked his friend in the eye, “Wow, that was pretty forward.”

Craig lifted his eyebrows, a smile threatening to break out on his face and they both laughed loudly before someone in a Jeep honked at Clyde to move his ass. He finished parking and the guy hit the gas making his car zoom out of the parking lot.

“Ahhhh!” Clyde mock screamed, “Look at the scary man riding his scary truck! I’m so fucking terrified my testicles are in my colon. Pfft. Jackass.”

“Wonder if he’s trying to compensate for anything,” Craig added.

Clyde looked down at his crotch and back at his friend. “This is the second time you’ve cracked a subtle dirty joke. Good job, bud.”

“Thank you. I’m learning from all your dick jokes.”

“One day, you’ll have me beat,” Clyde said as they detached their seat belts and opened their doors. 

Clyde climbed out with some difficulty because the person who was parked beside them was parked crooked, giving Clyde little to no room to squeeze out of the car without scratching their minivan. Finally, he succeeded while Craig looking on.

“Colour me impressed, Donovan. You sure you shouldn’t be in gymnastics?”

“Sue me,” Clyde grumbled, irritated at having to do so much work when the lankiness that was Craig was able to just get out.

They walked into the Mickey D’s and looked at the menu on display in front of them. Luckily, it wasn’t one of those high tech ones that flashed and did little animated exits as it went from option to option because those gave Craig headaches.

Craig could hear the sound of kids chattering and laughing. He wondered briefly if those kids should be in school but then he realized that was hypocritical of him. He and Clyde should be in school as well. The floor underneath his feet was permanently sticky and the soles of his shoes made snapping sounds as they left the floor and returned to it. He found the sound incredibly gross and slightly satisfying.

“Get some breakfast, Craiggo. It’s the most important meal of the day and plus I’m paying,” Clyde ordered and Craig squinted at the menu.

“I think I’m going to get the Egg’n’Sausage McMuffin. Do you think I could get a fucking toy?”

“Anything for my Craiggo.”

“Lit.”

“Alright, and Imma get a Triple Thick Strawberry Milkshake. I like them thick.”

“I think I want the chocolate one,” Craig replied. “I didn’t know they had Milkshakes here.”

“Not the vanilla?”

“The vanilla jokes are getting old, Clyde.”

“Whatever,” he snickered as they both walked up to the cashier. The cashier was a girl in her early twenties. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun and the outline of her eyes was drawn out in black, making her look like Cleopatra. Her lips were thin and Craig thought he saw her chewing gum a moment ago and wondered if she swallowed it to talk to them.

“Hey there,” Clyde drawled looking at her nametag quickly before adding, “Annabelle.”

“Uhm, hi. Welcome to McDonald's, may I take your order?” Annabelle replied, slightly confused if the furrow in her brow was anything to take note of. Most customers probably didn’t refer to her on a first name basis.

“Yes! Yes, you may. This fellow here,” Clyde pointed at Craig, “will be having an Egg’n’Sausage McMuffin with a kiddie toy and I—“

“Uhh, sorry,” Annabelle interrupted, “we don’t offer the toy with anything other than a kiddie meal.” 

Craig looked at her incredulously and Clyde replied, “Oh, I see.”

Then, Craig witnessed something he hadn’t witnessed before: Clyde working to get his way. He leaned onto the counter and sighed, getting Annabelle’s attention immediately since he was now in her breathing space. He looked up at her with his twinkling eyes and his goofy smile and said, “Can’t you make an exception, just this once? You seem like a really nice girl, Annabelle.”

Annabelle swallowed thickly, looking away and Craig knew Clyde won. She looked around and whispered, “Okay, but you have to make it seem like you’re ordering a kiddie meal.”

Clyde whispered back, “Now, you’re talking my lingo.”

He sighed audibly and said, “Darn it, Craig. I’m sorry, guy, but you’ll just have to get the McNuggets if you want a toy.”

“Fine, McNuggets it is,” Craig replied. “And a Triple Thick Chocolate Milkshake.”

“Alrighty,” Annabelle said as the order went through as an Egg’n’Sausage McMuffin and Triple Thick Chocolate Milkshake instead. “What will you be having today, Sir?”

“I would like a simple Triple Thick Strawberry Milkshake, please.”

Clyde completed the transaction with his debit card and Craig had to look away when he was typing his PIN. Craig already knew what it was. It was B-E-B-E or 2-3-2-3. 

“One moment please,” was all Annabelle said before turning away and preparing their orders.

In the meantime, Craig and Clyde listened to what was playing on the radio. A Charlie Puth song had just come on and Craig immediately started swaying his head from side to side and mouthing the words as Clyde looked at him dubiously. Kenny got it stuck in his head in the first place.

“What? It’s fucking catchy.”

“You should listen to Maroon 5. That shit always gets in my head.”

“Kenny had Justin Bieber in his head,” Craig blurted out.

Clyde gasped and put his closed fists on his hips like a scolding mother, “I thought we weren’t going to say that curs’d name, you’re a downer Craig Tucker. PARTY POOPER!”

“Fuck off,” Craig said then immediately stopped in his tracks wide eyed when he saw a six-year-old looking at him with a carton of fries in his grubby little mitts. “Uhm, listen kid, never say stuff like that.”

“Moommmmmmmmmmmmyyyyy!” The child crowed, “This man said a bad wooooorrrdd!”

They looked over at the mom, expecting her to pull a pistol out of her handbag or something but she only replied, “That’s nice honey.”

“Does that mean I get to say the bad word?”

“No, go play in the playroom,” the mom ordered.

Craig and Clyde turned back to the counter and remained silent until Annabelle returned, carrying a bag for a ‘Happy Meal’ and two Milkshakes.

“Here you are, Sirs. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Annabelle,” Clyde said and leaned into her space one last time. “Thanks for helping us out.”

“No problem,” Annabelle replied. “I think it’s shitty that no one lets adults have the toys.”

Craig took their tray of food and Clyde went straight to the napkins. He knew his shit. He got a handful of napkins and tapped the straw dispenser fifteen times for four plastic straws. When he finished, they went and sat down on the terrace outside even though it was pretty cloudy and not the nicest day. There were parents in the inside area and Clyde thought it was awkward to go sit with them. Made him feel older than he really was.

“This is a nice day in terms of South Park’s cold ass weather,” Clyde commented. “It’s kind of summer but kind of not.”

“You mean it’s spring, right?”

“Yeah, I guess that is what I mean.”

Craig pulled his McMuffin out of the kiddie bag and immediately dove for the toy. It was a PowerPuff Girls toy. It was a plastic Blossom ring that went around Craig’s finger and made it seem like Blossom was flying on his hand.

“That shit is awesome,” Clyde said. “I want one.”

“Ehhh, I really wanted Mojo Jojo but this is a good second choice.”

Clyde stabbed two straws into his Milkshake, took a sip, and pouted his lips, “It’s gross. I knew I should have gone vanilla.”

Craig smirked. “Dude, lemme try it.”

So, Clyde held out the Milkshake and Craig pointed the straws towards him, wrapped his lips around them, and sipped at the cold ice cream. It was sweet. Almost sweet enough to pucker anyone’s lips as if it were sour. The kind of sweet that got on your tongue and tainted it for the rest of the day. Like, even if you ate hot wings to cover up the taste in your mouth, a hint of the sweetness would still be there when you burped.

“I’ll take it,” Craig said. “Take mine.”

Clyde happily took the chocolate one and took long sips of it as Craig took hungry, ravenous bites out of the McMuffin interspersed with teeny tiny sips of the strawberry abomination.

When he finished, Clyde took a moment to let Craig stretch out languidly in his chair before asking, “So, do you think Kenny knows you’re his Soulmate?”

Craig made a face similar to the face Clyde made when he tried the Milkshake, “Fuck no.”

Clyde took another sip of his Milkshake, “Well, you guys have shared classes before, right? Maybe he’s shown signs of knowing way before you did and he said he was dating Tammy Warner to cover it up.”

“Are you suggesting I’m dense?”

“Denser than water when it’s mixed with oil, bud.” Then, to Craig’s mystified face, he added, “I mean that you’re the water and then oil is added but oil always floats.”

“I know that, I was just surprised you were using something science-y as an analogy.”

“I may not like science but I know you get good grades in it,” He gulped down some more of his shake. "I still can't believe you and Token are sooooo good at math and shit. That bullshit sucks."

Craig rolled his eyes. “Well, Kenny sat beside me in art class last year. But I don’t remember anything happening in it.”

Clyde knew Craig was a fairly good artist. He enjoyed doodling on Clyde’s binders when he went over to Clyde’s place to help him with Algebra. Craig never showed it but he was a well-rounded student . He played the piano and guitar for music, he drew better than half the boys in their grade, worked well with numbers and words, and enjoyed any subject science covered. The only subject Craig hated was Gym.

“Okay, that’s it?”

“I didn’t really talk to him all that much,” Craig replied. “Sometimes, he’d ask me to help him with his drawings or his projects in class but that’s normal.”

“Yeah, pretty normal,” Clyde grumbled. “Did he say anything _weird_ to you?”

“ _Weird?”_

“Like, flirty, mischievous. _Weird._ ”

Craig remembered that last year was layered with Kenny’s teasing little smiles and catcalls that were made to try and get his attention but, when he heard them, Craig would just lift an eyebrow, flip the kid off, pull his headphones over his ears, and listen to Death Grips or Tyler the Creator to drown him out. “Yeah, or course he did. But that’s _Kenny_.” 

“True that,” Clyde replied simply. “I have no fucking clue what you should do.”

“Thanks man.”

“No problem, buddy.”

They then decided that they should probably head back. It was 10:15 and if they left now, they could catch the end of third period at 11:30 so that Craig could have a cigarette before they went to meet Token, Jimmy, and Tweek for lunch.

They went back inside to drop off their tray and garbage because they were responsible citizens. Then, they walked off towards Clyde’s car.

“You parked too far away,” Craig sneered.

“That’s just because you don’t do anything.”

“Touché.”

They got to Wanda and Clyde had to commence his squeezing between the crooked minivan and his Honda in order to get in the driver’s side.

“God, I should have found another parking spot,” He growled as he started to get through, opening his car door and creating a small opening for himself to hop in through. Then, Clyde forgot how wide his ass was. Clyde had a nice ass. Craig knew only because Bebe and the other girls loved talking about it. It jutted out just the right way in most situations but it certainly didn’t help them in this one. So, Clyde literally slid into the small space he created between the minivan and himself and he let go of the door as he did so, hoping it would follow him and snap closed. But Clyde wasn't fast enough and his ass created a good rebound point. The door bounced against it and bumped into the minivan. The thud the Honda Civic’s door made against the side of the minivan made both Clyde and Craig’s eyes bulge out of their heads.

“Oh god,” Clyde started but Craig immediately pulled him further into the car.

“Get the fuck in, we’re leaving now, Donovan!” Clyde fell into his seat and closed the door immediately afterwards looking like he was about to cry.

“Holy Shit I think I just fucked up someone’s car.”

“Too fucking bad, they were crooked,” Craig decided grabbing Clyde’s pudgy cheeks and forcing him to look away from the possible damage he caused. “We’re leaving right now.”

So Clyde, being the reasonable man he was, put the car into reverse and slid out of the parking spot like a pro. Then, he drove the hell out of there and went on the road.

He whispered, “We’re criminals now, Craiggo.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “If that was all it took to be a criminal, Clyde, everyone would be one.”

“Really?” Clyde replied in a meek voice.

“Duh. Everyone bumps into people’s cars. I bumped Dad’s car door on the side of a Toyota once.”

“What did you do?”

“I fucked off and never said anything to anyone.”

“You’re a great mentor,” Clyde mumbled before turning the car radio’s volume up. “I love this song.”

It was ‘Andromeda’ by Gorillaz and it immediately soothed Clyde. Instead of sitting rigidly, he sort of melted into the seat. In a good way. In a way that made Craig smile fondly at him.

“Let’s get back to school,” he told Clyde. It was 10: 34.

*

They made it back to Clyde’s house after stopping to finish their ice cream since it was becoming a sugary puddle in Wanda’s cupholders. They watched the clock count down as they ate. At 11:00, they sped into South Park to drop off Wanda in Clyde’s garage. Once Wanda was safely tucked away and the boys had their bags on their shoulders, Clyde started to blast Deorro’s ‘When the Funk Drop’s’ on his iPhone because, according to him, that made him run faster. 

“Shit,” Clyde panted as he ran. “I can’t be—believe—we’re so fucking late.”

“You just had to—fuckin’ ram into that minivan!”

Clyde tried to strike him with a low kick as they ran which Craig narrowly missed. They both started howling with laughter, making South Parkers look over at the crazy young men running down the sidewalk like drunkards.

“Fuck! I can’t do this anymore,” Craig said, nearly collapsing. He put his hands on his knees and breathed out sporadically. Clyde wasn’t doing much better.

“Goddamn, man, I think the Milkshake’s gonna make a reappearance if I keep running like this, shit.”

Their chests were heaving and Craig could see stars in his vision. “Dude, I think I’m dying.”

They decided to take a moment to sit on the curb and re-analyze their situation. They came to the conclusion that Tweek was already mad at them since Clyde hadn’t shown up to their Western Civilization course during first period. Especially when they had a test. Clyde claimed it wasn’t an important thing, more like a little pop quiz everyone already knew about, but Tweek liked to go over what he studied with Clyde right before the test started. When Tweek realized Clyde wasn’t there, being the anxious little shit he was, Tweek would probably go to Token's locker and see if Craig had shown up to their Science class. There was about a 99.9 percent chance that he’d know and kick their asses. There was that .1 percent that Craig kept re-affirming but they both knew they were fucked.

“There’s no way he’s not going to be mad at us,” Clyde mumbled. “I mean we went and got ice cream without him.”

“If he knew the whole story, he’d understand,” Craig said. “Only after he beats our asses for not saying anything though.”

Clyde whimpered, “Does that mean we should switch schools? Because my dad won’t be too happy if I try that again.” 

“Nah, he’ll let it go, I think.”

“Bro, this was a rad short term plan.”

Clyde leaned back, lying down against the cement of the sidewalk. A bead of sweat pooled near the top of Craig’s ear and slid slowly down his neck.

_“— don’t talk anymore,_

_We don’t talk anymore_

_Like we used to do._

_We don’t laugh anymore_

_What was all of it for?_

_We don’t talk any—“_

Craig had fucking had enough. This was the last straw. He rammed two fingers into his eardrums and started singing loud and off-key just the way he liked it.

_“Wayfair, you got just what I need,_

_Everything for my home you got it for me!_

_I’ve never seen selection quite like this_

_Every colour and size on my mind_

_They have every single thing on my list_

_And with 70 percent off who knows what I’ll find!_

_Wayfair, and the shipping was free,_

_Now, my home’s the home I want to be!”_

When he finished, he unplugged his ears and sighed deeply. Clyde snorted beside him. Craig looked at the brunette and saw that he was actually crying with the force of not laughing.

“Goddamn it, Clyde, laugh already! Jesus!”

Clyde died, at least, Craig was pretty sure that his heart skipped a few too many beats as he roared with laughter. His eyes were leaking. “Oh God—Jesus, I’m crying. Holy He-he-h-hell Craig. What the fuck, ahaha.”

“Now, let’s see the motherfucker suffer a little.”

Clyde snorted again and fell into another spree of titters, “The Wayfair song though?”

“It’s always on fucking YouTube advertisements!” Craig growled. “I can't watch an entire video without getting one of them!”

Clyde was holding his stomach., doubled over in pain and amusement. “Oh God—oh God—I can’t breathe— my spleen. Stop it.”

After a few moments, they calmed down again. Craig cranked down from a twelve to a two and Clyde’s spleen stopped threatening to rupture itself.

“We gotta go, it’s almost 11:30 and if we aren’t back by 11:45 we’ll miss part of lunch,” Craig muttered as he got to his feet. He dusted his ass off and turned to Clyde who was still lying on the cement with his cheeks redder than a tomato. “You alright, man?”

“I haven’t laughed so hard in a long time. We need to hang out more. Bring Kenny,” At the last addition to the sentence, Clyde broke into hysterics again and Craig grabbed his bag and started walking down the street.

“Hey, w-wait up!” Clyde stuttered, grabbing his bag and stumbling over to Craig who used his long ass legs to propel away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Chill!”


	4. Just Some Healthy Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tweek gets some punches in, Kenny confesses, and Badminton remains a shit sport.

They were right. Tweek was definitely mad at them.

In fact, Tweek was there when they entered the school from the emergency exit nearest to the Nurse’s office. Immediately, he punched Craig in the stomach. Craig doubled over while Clyde assumed his defensive position which called for him to roll up into a ball in the middle of the hallway like a pill bug. Tweek, in response, gave him a generous kick in the shin.

“Dammit! D-do you understand h-how  _worried_ I was about you two?”

“Shit that hurt! We didn’t e-even go that far,” Craig hissed, trying to collect all of the air that left his lungs the moment the blond punched him. "Fuck me!"

“Distance d-doesn’t fucking m-matter, dude! Jesus, what am I going to do with you?”

Clyde weakly sputtered out, “L-love us a-and protect us from all the evil shit in the w-world?”

 Craig supplied, “Beat us if we do it again?”

 “Both!” Tweek cried out angrily. “You guys suck. Now, let’s g-go g-get some lunch. Y-you’re causing a scene.”

Tweek marched off, his cheeks bright red, while Clyde and Craig feebly picked themselves off the floor and followed behind. On the way, they put their bags in their lockers and Tweek didn’t wait for them. By the time they entered the cafeteria, Craig was rubbing his stomach in calming circles while Clyde limped in.

“G-Gosh! What happened guys?” Butters Stotch asked as they entered. Tweek was already sitting down with Token and Jimmy.

“Butters, old buddy, we just got our asses beat,” Clyde said. 

“Oh, that sucks, do you need some band-aids? I have some in my pocket!” Butters said, stuffing his hand in his pocket and pulling out a couple of bandages. “You n-never know when you need them, right fellas?”

 “Uhhh, yeah, I guess. But we aren't bleeding so we don't need them,” Craig wasn’t really friends with Butters but they were cordial on the few occasions they spoke. Butters was closer to Tweek. "Thanks anyway, Butters." 

“I noticed you weren’t in Science either, Craig. Were you in Mrs. Abernathy's office again? I thought she wasn’t in on Wednesdays?” Butters said with a thoughtful tilt of his head. Craig’s mind halted in his tracks.

Holy fuck. They picked the one day that Mrs. Abernathy, the nurse, wasn’t present to skip class. Craig had a deal going with Mrs. Abernathy. Mrs. Abernathy vouched that Craig was in her office when he skipped class. In exchange, Craig's reputation frightened any students who wanted to sneak bottles of allergy medication and rubbing alcohol out of her cabinets. Craig toughed it out on Wednesdays, attending his classes in doses and fleeing to the bathroom whenever he needed a moment of silence.

“Yeah, I just asked Mr. Garrison to open up the room for us,” Clyde replied quickly. “Craig’s always in there too so he didn’t even question it.”

“Ah well! That’s really useful! Oh, gosh, I'm going to be late for journalism club if I stay here too long. I hope you feel better soon, guys!”

Butters smiled happily at them as he passed by and slipped out the cafeteria door. Craig and Clyde approached their friends at their usual table wearily. Token scooted over and Clyde took a seat while Craig sat down next to Tweek and calmly allowed his forehead to hit the table in front of him with a resounding thwack. 

Craig was an unaware catalyst for change in the structure of the group. Craig had met Clyde offhandedly when they were both six. Clyde was crying loudly because he was the only kid in kindergarten who couldn’t kick a hacky sack more than two times. Craig got so annoyed that he threw his sneaker over the fence that separated both of their homes. Craig managed to hit him head on. This resulted in Craig having to go over to Clyde’s house on his own, apologize, and ask for his shoe back. Craig vaguely remembered asking his father to get the M.I.A shoe in his place but Thomas Tucker shook his head and read the next page of his book, not even bothering to have an ‘every action has its consequences’ talk before doing so. Craig taught Clyde how to properly kick a hackey sack and Craig’s solo became a reluctant duo. Especially on Craig’s side of the coin. Craig met Token during music class when they were eight. They had to make a brief presentation about Beethoven and his musical achievements. Craig invited Token back to his place and there they were intercepted by Clyde making their duo a trio. Tweek was a special case, having approached Craig on his own. According to the twitchy boy, Craig dropped a pencil. The pencil wasn’t even his but he picked it up and thanked Tweek anyway. Then, things just flowed. Tweek started eating with them at lunch, going to their lockers, and talking to them in class. Jimmy joined after he attended Cartman’s gang’s competition to find the group’s newest fourth member after both Kenny and Butters left Cartman's tyranny. Basically, Craig’s group were Jimmy’s sloppy seconds that turned out to be a better choice in the end.

“Did you eat anything?” Tweek asked Craig. 

“Had an Egg’n’Sausage McMufin courtesy of Clyde.”

Token sniggered, “At least you brought him to Mickey’s.”

Token didn’t wear his football jacket much outside of practice, unlike Clyde and Stan who wore theirs every day. Token found it exhausting to be known as the only black guy on the football team instead of a well-rounded black student who happened to be on the football team. Token shared a lot of Craig’s math and science classes and played bass guitar as if it was in his blood. They often had little sessions in the music room during Study Hall since they both found it distracting to study during school hours. Too many loud students, too little time to focus on thermodynamics and Cartesian planes.

Clyde huffed, “Everyone eats at Mickey’s, Token. No one can resist that crap.”

“Muh-muh-my mom ha-hay-hay-hates bringing me there,” Jimmy commented, his stutter slowing his speech. Jimmy didn’t usually eat at school. Most of the time, his parents would pick him up and he’d eat at home with them. “N-naw-not healthy e-enough. Appar-Appar-According to her, the me-me-meat is horse meat.”

Craig looked up at Jimmy curiously. “You aren’t going home for lunch today?”

“Dad cah-cou-couldn’t come get me, g-got an im-imp-impor—big meeting right now,” Jimmy explained. “I kind of wa-wa-wish to tell him that I-I-I am c-ca-cay-pable of staying at school.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with that. You just turned seventeen,” Craig answered.

“Exactly,” Jimmy agreed, the crutches beside him slipping against his lap. He reached down slowly to shift their position.

“Wait, did you guys finish eating already?” Clyde asked, breaking their conversation to look at Token and Tweek.

“Yep, just waiting on you guys and Jimmy,” Token said.

“I-I l-l-like taking my time,” Jimmy said, guiding a grape into his mouth.

Clyde sighed, “We got Gym next, Craiggo. Tell me why we couldn’t skip Gym?”

Tweek clicked his tongue in annoyance, “I would have murdered you, Donovan.”

As they chattered, a single thought slipped across Crag’s mind:  _“Wayfair, you got just what I—Fucking Hell.”_

Craig smirked against the table and chanced a glance over Clyde’s shoulder, to where Kenny sat with Cartman, Stan, and Kyle. Kyle was gesticulating wildly, causing two members of the group to laugh boisterously. Kenny; however, was stuck on some other plane in his mind. He looked up and caught his eye just before Craig turned away, leaning his tired head against his arm. 

Craig slept through the rest of lunch. He was woken up by Clyde’s incessant whining about Bebe’s earlier conversation about her leaving him if he moved away. Craig rubbed his eyes and said, “Shit, Clyde. Let it go. It’s more annoying to hear you bitching about it. Bebe’s probably not even sure why you’re mad at her.”

“Wow, you woke up on the grouchy side of the cafeteria table too,” Clyde harrumphed and stuck out his tongue at Craig. “I’ll text her and let her know I wasn’t mad or nothing, I was just helping a lovesick friend.”

“You know, avoiding the situation isn’t—” Craig paused, “—wait, who’re you calling lovesick, shitface? At least I’m not afraid to go to Gym like you.”

“Hey! That’s because of Stan and you know it!”

Tweek looked over at Craig, amusement shinning in his green eyes, “Lovesick?”

“Don’t even ask, it’s a slight problem. But I’m  _not_  lovesick.”

He chuckled. “Okay, l-let me know if it turns out to be serious.”

“It’s pretty serious,” Clyde said before laughing.

“Shut your trap, Donovan.”

Tweek smiled. “Are you going to participate in Gym today?”

Craig shook his head, “As soon as I walk out of the locker room, I’m benching myself voluntarily.”

Tweek chuckled. “Have f-fun, buddy. L-Let’s hang out after school, maybe w-walk home together or somethin’”

“Sure, I’ll see you then, Tweekers,” Craig replied. They didn’t live anywhere close to each other but Craig was always willing to walk Tweek home before going home himself.

Clyde and Craig broke off from their group of friends and made their way towards the Gym. Gym was actually the only class they both shared together and Craig never participated, not that Clyde minded too much. In the sports Craig did participate in, he proved to be stubborn competition because he was a fast learner. Clyde urged Craig to join sports teams with him but Craig wasn’t interested. Craig didn’t work well with most people. He didn’t trust new people and found little personality defaults, amplifying them to the point where they defined a person’s character.

Craig was bullied for a while when they were kids. He was unnaturally pale, thin, and tall, with coal gray eyes and kids often felt his appearance was ghostly at best. Clyde saw some kids picking on Craig once when they were seven. He stood up for Craig. (He even threw some pretty decent punches in for a kid his age.) They were both beaten to a pulp though. The teachers caught all the boys and put them in detention and as they left, Clyde and Craig walked home together and watched Red Racer at Clyde’s house.

Craig built up a sturdy wall that kept him and a select few away from all others. Now that Craig was seventeen, 6 foot something, and his body was composed of a slender muscular frame, people just left him alone. Not to mention, Craig had several ear piercings, smoked against the back wall of the school, and was all angles making him look indifferent and rejecting. Whatever the reason, part of Craig wanted to be left alone.

But Clyde knew differently, knew the dork inside out. He liked astronomy and underground music and guinea pigs. He was studying in order to be a veterinarian or an astronaut and Clyde knew that if anyone was going to leave South Park and become someone bigger than all this, it was Craig.

“C’mon bud, we’re playing badminton today and I can’t wait,” He cooed, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Badminton’s a shit sport,” Craig muttered.

 

 

Clyde and Craig entered the Gym and Craig’s face crinkled in disgust. It smelled like old sweaty socks and even though the floor wasn’t as sticky as the one in McDonalds, Craig was reluctant to have any of his shit touch the floor. 

Craig left his gym clothes in Clyde’s football locker. Football players got the privilege of having their own lockers in a separate section than regular students. They went straight to his locker and Clyde quickly unlocked it and passed Craig his clothes.

“Bring them home to get washed tonight,” Clyde advised. “After a few days of anything being in here, they start smelling musty.”

Craig nodded, pulling his shirt off and replacing it with the stupid white tee-shirt that the gym uniform used.

Clyde did the same, but he started with sliding off his shoes and wiggling out of his skinny jeans.

“Jesus Christ, I shouldn’t have worn these,” Clyde grumbled, lifting one leg and pulling his leg out by the ankle of his pants.

The brunette had no balance and hopping around in an attempt to free his second leg. Craig was sure that Clyde would trip over the bench that was behind him sooner or later.

“Donovan, stop acting like an idiot,” A gruff voice called. “We don’t need any more players getting injured this season.”

“Marsh,” Clyde muttered under his breath. Craig was kind of pissed with Stan too. He ruined all of the fun.

“Hey,” another voice mumbled, light as air, as Craig pulled his shirt on. “Nice back Craig.”

Craig had nothing to say to Kenny who glided in alongside Stan as if this locker room was his personal hunting ground. Kenny could own any space if he wanted to. Hell, everyone knew when the blond entered a room. He exuded a confidence that painted the walls orange. Craig knew that Kenny had entered his vicinity just by the way heart started galloping in his chest, like he was having a panic attack, how he had to physically lower his head to keep his eyes from jumping out of their sockets to look at the boy. A new smell entered his body, something so familiar but unreachable at the same time like the smell of an apple pie on someone else’s window sill. He swallowed thickly. Someone  _had_ to move. Something had to change to dispel the words clogging his throat.

“Craig? Is everything okay?” He heard Clyde’s voice but it was as if he was in another room. The only thing he was focused on was Kenny and Kenny’s little gap tooth smile and the way his eyes seemed to eat Craig and spit him back out.

He breathed in deeply and nodded. Stan caught Kenny’s attention and Kenny moved towards Stan and his locker.

Both Clyde and Craig changed out of their clothes uncomfortably and once Craig got to his pants Craig stopped completely. Craig knew Kenny was watching him, calculating the approximate distance between them. He could feel it in the tension in the air and Stan was acting completely oblivious, asking Kenny if he needed an extra gym shirt. 

“Nah, I think I’ll just use my wife beater,” Kenny drawled and Craig could feel the blonde’s eyes boring into his back.

“Dammit, this is so awkward,” Clyde whispered under his breath but Craig heard it just fine.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom,” Craig muttered. He got up quickly and left the area. He got into the locker room bathroom and sighed, picking a random stall and locking it safely as he entered. He started to fiddle with his belt buckle.

“You’re really trying to avoid me, huh.”

Craig stopped dead, dropping his belt buckle.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been completely ignored. Like, seriously. I’m pretty damn sure I’ve never seen someone run away from me as fast as you did, Tucker.”

Craig said nothing.

“Got nothing to say? Thanks for the Wayfair jingle by the way,” It was a good one, Craig thought. “It was a good one, made me completely stop thinking about Charlie Puth.”

He wanted to say something but he felt the blonde’s heat through the door. It was suffocating.

“Craig, please. We need to talk about this,” Kenny’s hand hit the stall door between them. “Your Princess commands it.”

Craig immediately betrayed himself. He smirked a small satisfied noise coming out of his mouth that sounded like a small chuckle. “I haven’t been your Feldspar in years.”

He thought he heard Kenny sigh but it was so quiet he wasn’t sure if he’d heard him or someone from the locker room. “Are you gonna come out now?”

“I don’t think I have any choice,” Craig replied. “You aren’t afraid of skipping class and I’m sure you’re stubborn enough to just sit there and wait for me to come out at some point.”

“I was willing to do that,” Kenny admitted. “That’s why I came in here.”

“Because I trapped myself?”

Kenny laughed. “I guess so. I know you don’t like to confront people but I also know you’re too smart to stay in there forever. At some point, you’ll say fuck it and come out.”

Craig was a lot more of a watcher than an active participant. Whenever he was confronted, his fight or flight response would kick in and he’d either punch or run off as fast as his legs could carry him. At parties, he was the type of guy to find a good place to sit and watch everything going on. How people reacted to each other, how they fit in together. At several times, he found himself watching Kenny at these parties, watching the boy dance and drink without a care in the world. But why hadn’t he noticed how blue his eyes were? Even now, he was afraid to look at them.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” Kenny asked.

“What?”

“I haven’t been dating Tammy Warner for a while now.”

When Craig was silent, Kenny took it as his cue to continue, “You remember last year, we had that art class together?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t the best drawer, was I?”

“No, you were shit at it,” Craig said bluntly and on the other side of the door, Kenny chuckled.

“You were. Uhh, really good, I mean—You weren’t shit at it,” Kenny stuttered and Craig found his unease surprisingly cute. A sudden burst of motivation came from Kenny, “Well, when I decided to take art, I did it to surprise Tammy. She liked artists.

“She, uh, decided to dump me though. She found her Soulmate and shit plus she was really moving away, I didn’t lie about that.”

“What does this have anything to do with me?” Craig grumbled although he found himself more than just a bit satisfied that Kenny did not in fact have a girlfriend.

“Impatient. I’m getting there. Plus, you should remember that I can hear you thinking up a storm most of the time,” Kenny said simply and Craig paled at the thought. Had he heard his satisfaction? Had he heard that Craig thought he was mildly interesting?

“Don’t worry, I want you to say it to me out here instead of in that pretty little head of yours,” Kenny replied nonchalantly and Craig rolled his eyes. “Lemme continue. So, Tammy dumped me and I had to keep going to Art Class. Then, the teacher paired us up and we had to sit beside each other, remember?”

He did remember. That day, they were drawing their first pets. While Craig was drawing Spike, he ended up catching a glance at Kenny’s drawing. It was a clumsy drawing of a fish.

“It has no gills,” he commented as Kenny looked up.

“What?” Kenny asked.

“Your fish, it has no gills.”

“Maybe I like it without gills. Gills are stupid, anyhow.”

Craig snorted and continued his drawing, adding little details to Spike’s fur and to the clump of grass he was eating.

“What?” Kenny demanded, “I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“You’re denying that fish the opportunity to breathe. Fish need gills, McCormick, or else they can’t breathe underwater.”

Kenny didn't responded and immediately asked the teacher for a hall pass. He stuck his tongue out at Craig as he left the room. Craig rolled his eyes but when Kenny hadn’t come back, he decided to help him out a little bit.

Craig asked for a new paper and started drawing a goldfish. He made sure it was slightly round and chubby, had all of its necessary fins, and had gills. Then, he wrote Kenny’s name on it and placed it on Kenny McCormick’s side of their shared desk.

“You know, I still have that drawing,” Kenny commented, bringing Craig back to the present where he was still cornered in a bathroom stall.

“You do? Why?”

“Because that’s the day I realized you were my Soulmate, Craig Tucker, you oblivious piece of shit,” Kenny laughed brightly. “That was the sentence that was written on me, ‘You’re denying that fish the opportunity to breathe.’”

“You’re kidding, right,” Craig deadpanned. That was by far one of the stupidest marks he had ever heard.

“No, Cartman said it was the most random one he’d seen ever. So, I’m guessing mine was ‘Hey cutie, can I touch that booty?’ That’s fucking wonderful.”

Kenny laughed some more, “You know. We’re made for each other, Craig Tucker. My sentence was the worst pick up line imaginable and yours was the most awkward sentence someone could ever say to anyone. I don’t know. But now that I think about that sentence, it always sounded like something you’d say.”

He could almost hear Kenny getting closer, placing his forehead against the cool metal of the stall door. His voice, usually bright and bubbly, suddenly sank an octave lower in his seriousness. “Let me in.”

Craig immediately remembered that this was Mysterion he was dealing with. His nemesis, his princess, his Soulmate. Kenny could be childish and charming but there was a side to him that was tough, experienced, predatory.

“Hey Kenny, are you fucking finished? We’re going to be late!” Stan yelled. Kenny clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Kenny replied, “Be out in a second.”

Kenny’s voice faltered. It was still in that lower register, low and raspy, but seemed to try and jump back into his usual playful voice. He coughed.

“Good talk Craig,” he mumbled, amusement leaking through his words. “Next time I hope you let me in there with you though.”

He heard Kenny leave and kept listening to his footsteps echoing out of focus. Then, he slid down the door, grasping his gym shorts to his chest and willing the flush on his cheeks to die down.

 

 

 

Craig met Clyde in the gymnasium and the brunette glanced at him wearily, “So, how did that go?” 

“Traitor,” Craig hissed at Clyde. “You knew he was following me and you just let it happen?”

“Stan stopped me. I couldn’t avoid him. I think he knows about you and Kenny.”

That would make sense. Had Kenny told Stan, Stan would be able to help Kenny by getting Clyde to buzz off. He would make a good security guard.

“Oh my god,” Clyde gasped. “That’s why he was being such a dick at practice!”

“What do you mean?”

“Coach had just—just—JUST dismissed us and I was just about to meet you out in the hall when Stan grabbed my shoulder. So, I turned around right? And I said something like ‘sup and he asked me if I was good friends with you and I was like duh we hang out all the time, like, the fuck Stan? And he started asking me questions about you again and I got annoyed because he  _expected_ answers you know? And when I couldn’t tell him what kind of boxers you wore, he just tsked and walked away!”

Craig’s arms were crossed over his chest. “Did he really ask about my boxers.”

Clyde smiled guiltily. “Do you want the truth? Then, yeah. He did. I thought he was trying to dig on me being gay for you, he always says shit like that.”

Craig snorted, that did sound like Stan. “You’re saying Kenny is using Stan to do some recon on me but Kenny already knows a lot about me because of the stupid mind link shit. And this isn’t some stupid spy movie.”

“This is  _Cartman’s gang_  we’re talking about, Craiggory, they think everything is a spy mission on speed. And besides, the link only tells you  _some_  things. I know you better than anyone.”

Their Gym teacher called the class together and everyone moved closer. He started talking about Badminton and Craig started to zone out.

“Hey Coach!” A voice he recognized as Kenny’s called out. “I’d like to pick my partner now.”

“Oh fuck no,” Craig paled but a tiny voice inside of him became fascinated.

“Uhm, alright, McCormick, who’ll it be? Marsh?”

“Nope, I’d like to be partnered up with Craig Tucker.”

Craig’s palm hit the front of his forehead. “Shit.”

“Tucker? You’re participating? I thought you were benching yourself out again.”

Everyone in their class turned to Craig and Clyde. “I was planning on not participating, yeah.”

"Well, I guess McCormick wants you to be a little more involved,” Their teacher replied and went back to the lesson, “it could do you some good.”

They dispersed into their teams and Clyde looked terrified at the prospect of being against Stan, who decided to partner with Clyde because Kenny was with Craig. Kenny volunteered to walk over to the other side of the net and Craig took the proposal, not wanting to exert himself more than necessary. The blond skipped over to the other side, ducked down underneath the net, and turned on his heels in order to see Craig properly. He was holding his racket tightly in his left hand. Craig had to admit that Kenny was even better looking without his stupid orange parka on. The boy was lithe but muscular, similar to Craig’s body type but not necessarily the same. The blond had rounder, softer features while Craig’s were well-defined with sharper edges.

“Take off your hat Tuck,” Kenny called from the other side. Craig paid him no attention but their teacher did.

“Yeah, Tucker, no hats in the Gym.”

The little devil on the other side of the net grinned broadly. Craig thought about flipping off the teacher but realized Tweek wanted to hang out after school so he couldn’t afford to get himself detention. He gritted his teeth and pulled off his hat, something that made Clyde gasp audibly from where he was getting ready to play Stan.

“C’mon, Donovan, serve!” Stan chided from beside Kenny. “You can ogle at Craig later, dumbass.”

Clyde was seething, “Fuck you, Marsh!”

Craig watched the exchange and walked towards the net he shared with Kenny. Kenny watched, rapt with interest as Craig leaned against the net and beckoned him forward. Kenny walked up, dragging his racket as he moved forward. He was practically nose to nose with Craig by the time he stopped.

“’Sup, sweetie?”

“Cut the crap. I want you to put your fucking guard dog on a leash.”

Craig made a small head nod over to Stan and Kenny caught on immediately, “Guard dog?"

“Yeah, tell him to lay off Clyde. It’s fucking annoying to have to listen to him complain about Marsh just because you want him out of your way.”

Kenny pouted. “I don’t want him out of my way. I just want him to give me a few freaking seconds to talk to you.”

“I also know that Stan was asking Clyde oh so many questions about my life,” Craig added. “Including my boxers. Seriously?”

“I told him to be subtle but that’s never been Stan’s style really. He’s all out in the open,” Kenny explained. “ _And i_ t’s an important question Craig! I want to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

Craig tried not to notice the slight innuendo. “Don’t care, McCormick. Just tell him to lay the fuck off.”

Kenny’s glare hardened unexpectedly, an unguarded thought slipping past their link,  _“Why do you care so much?”_

Then, Kenny’s face returned to its regular state and he nodded briskly. “Alright, I wanna make things a bit more interesting. If I win this match, I get to keep your hat for the rest of the day.”

“Wait, what?”

“Those are my conditions. I’ll tell Stan to leave Clyde alone if you win.”

“Fine. I serve first.”

Kenny looked slightly shocked for a moment. “W-what? Seriously?”

“Best out of five, right Coach?” Craig called out to the teacher and the teacher nodded.

“You two should get playing,” Coach added. “I see a lot of chatting up over there.”

Craig turned on his heels and paced back to the middle of his court. Kenny did the same, bending his knees and keeping his eyes on Craig who was preparing to serve.

“Oh, by the way, McCormick…”

“What, Tuck?”

“Don’t be jealous, it doesn’t suit you,” Craig replied, serving the birdie smoothly over the net.

“Wh-what?” Kenny yelped, flustered. He took his eyes off the birdie for a moment and that’s all it took for the bird to land smack dab in the middle of his court.

“I guess that’s a point for me, isn’t it?” Craig smirked at the blond who was gaping. The boy shut his mouth and marched forward to grab the birdie. “Your serve, McCormick.”

“Fucking prick,” Kenny ground out. Craig managed to hear it.

“Whoever said I play fair?”

Kenny served the bird and it sailed across the net. Craig managed to hit it back easily and it returned leisurely into Kenny’s court. Kenny suddenly moved forward, cranking his arm back and smacking the bird with so much force that the little plastic thing whipped through the air. If Craig hadn’t ducked at the right moment it would have smacked him in the mouth. He glared at Kenny.

“Fuck you, McCormick. It’s out of bounds, so it’s my point, your serve” Craig said and hit the birdie to Kenny.

“No it isn’t assface,” Kenny snapped, sending the birdie back. “Coach never mentioned any boundaries to the court! It’s your serve!”

Craig tsked, walked over to the birdie, picked it up again, and threw it over the net to Kenny. “He doesn’t  _need_ to McCormick, it’s a fucking unspoken rule of the game!”

Kenny was bright red with anger. He yowled out, “Stan!”

Marsh, for his credit, managed to hit the birdie back to Clyde even when Kenny yelled at him. “Oof—it is an unspoken—rule, Kenny.”

“Fuck off, you’re on his side,” Kenny growled.

Craig snorted, “When is he ever on my side, McCormick?”

“Tucker, McCormick, Marsh, Donovan. Less chatting, more playing!” Coach called.

“What?” Clyde yelped, falling on his ass trying to hit one of Stan’s shots. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“DONOVAN!”

Craig could see Clyde grumbling under his breath. Just then, the birdie made its reappearance in Craig’s personal space, flying straight past him and landing on the floor.

“What the fuck, McCormick?”

“You shouldn’t be fucking staring at Clyde! Pay attention to the fucking match!”

Craig was preparing his serve when he heard,  _“Pay attention to me, asswipe!”_

“W-what?” Craig said, a blush threatening to climb up his neck onto his cheeks. His serve was sufficiently fucked up and the birdie didn’t make it far enough into Kenny’s court.

“My point, dickwad.”

Suddenly, Craig realized this was their last point. Craig had two points and so did Kenny. One more fuck up and Kenny would have his hat, his dignity, and Clyde would be Stan’s bitch forever.

Craig sighed and served the damn birdie. Kenny returned it with a strong swing. Craig saw the birdie slow down just a bit more than it had in earlier swings so he used that to his advantage. He tapped the birdie and sent it just over the net causing Kenny to run forward clumsily and just hit it over. Craig sighed as he watched it come towards him, his lethargic indifference kicking in— (What's the point? It's just a birdie. How annoying. Can I go home and sleep now? Can I bench myself after this?)— as the birdie tipped forward and fell to the floor with a tap.

“Fuck it,” He said softly, stretching his arms out in front of him.

“Y-you didn’t even run for it,” Kenny panted looking at him in utter shock.

Craig yawned and tilted his head slightly at Kenny, “Doesn’t matter. You win.”

“But you threw the match!”

“I threw it because I wanted to throw it. It isn’t worth the trouble and I feel sweaty,” Craig dropped the racket on the gym floor and ruffled his hair. He grabbed his hat from where it landed half-hazardously against the benches and watched as Kenny ducked back underneath the net and jogged over.

Craig held out the hat to him but Kenny looked at it uncertainly, “Can I really?”

“What? Suddenly afraid I have dandruff or something?”

“Fuck off, Tucker,” Kenny said gleefully. He grabbed Craig’s hat and pulled it on his head and tittered happily. “I can’t believe this, this is great. Look, Craig! Don’t I look good in blue? I fucking do, don’t I? Guess what?”

Craig sat down on the bench with a huff, you’d think he’d been working out for two hours. He looked up at Kenny who was now playing with the yellow pom-pom that sat on top of his head.

“What?”

“Now, you won’t be able to resist me,” Kenny mumbled, his voice loud enough so that only Craig could hear. “Guys love when their partners wear their clothes, right? It’s perfect. And I fit your type.”

“My type? Enlighten me, McCormick.”

“We both know you like ‘em pretty and blond,” Kenny said, his eyes narrowing in all the right ways that made Craig’s stomach flip over itself.

Craig sputtered angrily, “Y-you know f-fuck all.”

Kenny sat down beside Craig, completely unfazed. After a few minutes of listening to the blond breathe in and out, Clyde sat down on his other side. Stan looked uneasily between the three of them before Kenny spoke up.

“Stan, you can lay off Clyde now. Sorry for making you act like a dick around him.”

Stan looked at his friend and then his football teammate awkwardly. “So, I guess we’re cool, Donovan?”

“Groovy,” Clyde said decidedly, taming his face to remain as neutral and as possible.


	5. The Big Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenny is unhealthily obsessed and Cartman takes matters into his own hands.

Kenny had enough.

Had enough of the numbers running through Craig’s head, the constant circulation of facts and memos. It didn’t help that it was so easy to get lost in Craig’s mind, between the intricate mess of math problems, cute guinea pig thoughts, and general oddness that was Craig.

_“Tanning beds are basically human toasters.”_

_“_ _The triple point: the precise temperature and pressure at which the three states of matter (solid, liquid and gas) exist in thermodynamic equilibrium.”_

_“Can Stripe eat alfalfa?”_

_“Holy shit, I’m eating little chicken miscarriages. That’s fucked, isn’t it?”_

_“Does that mean IHOP is International territory? Better rob that next.”_

Kenny was going to get Craig Tucker. It was only a matter of time. The only problem was Kenny's lack of patience. He was always the first of his friends to do things. First to get a girlfriend, first to get laid, first to know the dirtiest jokes, first to ever make out with a guy. So on. Etcetera.

But Kyle was the first one to find his Soulmate. He found Stan fairly easily since they were neighbours.

And Cartman was the first one to grab his Soulmate’s boobs. Heidi was easily persuaded into lifting her shirt when no one was looking. However, this first time hardly counts in Stan’s humble opinion because Kyle doesn’t have boobs and he probably got to touch Kyle’s chest way earlier than Cartman got to touch Heidi’s.

And Stan was the first one to fuck Kyle underneath the bleachers in the football field.

It just wasn’t fucking fair.

It had Kenny seething that he couldn’t do anything with Craig. Craig had no idea that Kenny was his Soulmate until now and now that he knew, Craig wouldn’t run to Kenny. He wouldn’t act all lovey-dovey like Kyle or excessively flirty like Heidi. He was new territory, stubborn and unforgiving. 

And with every second he breathed in the spicy-scent laced in Craig’s chullo hat, he lost an ounce of his sanity.

They were in the middle of Study Hall, sitting in one of the library’s study rooms, and Stan was watching him sniff Craig’s hat unhealthily.

“Shuddup,” Kenny growled, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of the hat.

“Dude, there’s something wrong with you.”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were in the same position with Kyle,” Kenny muttered, stuffing the hat back on his head.

Stan thought about it, “I’d probably be stealing his leftovers from lunch or his pencil shavings and shit to make a shrine in my closet.”

“Now, that’s fucked up.”

“You don’t have a shrine? It’s been a year now and you don’t have a shrine?”

“Wasn’t even thinking about building one until now.”

“Shit,” Stan said, “guess I am a little fucked.”

“What am I going to do, Stan?”

Stan flipped his math textbook to the next page and said, “What do you usually do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, try to seduce him or something. You’ve done that before. Tease him, flirt, I dunno.”

“But he’s different, Stan. He’s long term. The others were nothing compared to him.” Suddenly, Kenny gasped excitedly. “What if I do something big?”

“Big? How big?”

“Like three magicians, two elephants, and a dancing monkey with a tiny fedora big.”

“You’re making it very difficult to concentrate on parabolas,” Stan conceded, looking up from his math textbook. “Craig doesn’t seem like the ‘big’ type of guy.”

Kenny tapped his fingers against the table they were sitting at. “Maybe I could get him a t-shirt with my face printed on it?”

“That seems more like a first anniversary kind of gift.”

Suddenly, Kyle whizzed by Kenny and took a seat beside Stan. Stan kissed Kyle, a sweet, chaste thing, and Kenny slammed his head against the surface of the table with a whine. 

“What’s going on?” Kyle asked curiously.

“Teen life crisis,” Stan supplied. “This idiot is trying to impress an even bigger idiot.

“Wait, aren’t you with Tammy?” Kyle asked him and Kenny coughed uncomfortably.

Kenny suddenly looked at Stan. “You never told him? I told you you could tell him so I didn’t have to.”

“Wait, Stan’s in on it and not me?” Kyle said, looking a little outraged.

Stan shrugged sheepishly. “Guess I forgot. Besides, Kenny you should tell him because it’s your problem not mine. I shouldn’t have to tell for you because you don’t want to look stupid in front of Kyle and Cartman.”

“F-fuck looking stupid, just tell me! What happened with Tammy Warner?” Kyle shouted causing some girls at the next table over to glare at the three boys. They turned to other things and Kyle whispered, “Seriously, I won’t judge you or anything, Kenny.”

Kenny sighed. “Okay, look. Tammy broke up with me last year.”

“Wait, I thought you were Soulmates!”

“I lied,” Kenny confessed, pulling on a curl of his blond hair. “I told you guys I was her Soulmate because you guys all had one and I was kind of feeling like the odd man out, you know?”

“That’s a stupid excuse,” Kyle admitted bluntly.

Kenny flushed slightly. “Well, excuuuse me. That’s seriously what I thought.” 

“What about your real Soulmate? Is that the person you’re trying to impress?”

“Good deductive reasoning, Sherlock,” Stan mused.

Kyle smirked. “Why, thank you, Watson.”

The two shared a kiss and Kenny gagged.

“You won’t believe who his Soulmate is, though,” Stan said as he pulled away with a chuckle.

“Who is it? Who is it?” Kyle asked excitedly, a grin splitting his face nearly in two.

“Craig Tucker,” Stan announced.

“Tucker? You’re kidding, right? Wow, shit. That’s one name I didn’t expect.”

Kenny tilted his head, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Why is his name so unexpected?”

Kyle cleared his throat. “W-well, I mean. Craig is a very, uhm, you know. He’s withdrawn.”

“So?” Kenny prompted.

“So, you two have completely different personalities,” Kyle insisted. “Craig’s serious, you’re fun. Craig’s quiet, you’re not. Craig’s laid back but you always want to do something.”

Kenny slammed his head back down on the table and sighed dramatically in defeat.

“You aren’t making this any better,” Stan commented.

“Sorry Kenny, I didn’t mean to make it sound like it’s impossible,” Kyle tried to re-explain. “It’s just…Fuck.”

Stan took out his phone and started fiddling with it. “I have an idea. I’m calling Cartman.”

“What?” Kyle cried out. 

“I know he’s a dick but he can think up kick ass plans.”

“A kick ass plan to do what exactly, Stanley Marsh?” Kyle scolded.

“We’re gonna help Kenny out with his love life.”

“You are?” Kenny yelled out excitedly.

“Of course, you’re our bro,” Stan said.

“O-oh god, this is g-going to be like Peru all over again,” Kyle stammered.

“We can’t have it be another Peru,” both Stan and Kenny said in unison.

“Okay,” Kyle murmured. “Call Cartman.”

 

 

“You jackasses have got sum explainin’ to do,” Cartman fumed when he saw the three other boys loitering around the halls.

Cartman still hadn’t lost his all his baby fat from his fourth grade days but his body had become more boyish and less childish. Although his body matured, Cartman’s mind remained very much the same.  His cheeks were puffed out in annoyance and He was wearing a shirt with a motorcycle on it even though he couldn’t ride a motorcycle. Kenny bet that the back of the shirt read “If you’re reading this, the bitch fell off” only because Cartman loved buying shirts that were politically incorrect. In his right hand, he was holding a large carton of chocolate milk.

“Cartman,” Kenny started, “I—“

Cartman held up his index finger to silence him. The chubby boy took a sip of his chocolate milk and said, “You _lied_ to us, Kinny. Fucking cocksucker. I can’t believe you’re gay. I thought we were brothers.”

“Brothers?” Kyle asked.

“In the fight against the gays, Kahl. Fucking everyone is going fucking gay in this gay universe,” Cartman ranted.

“Clyde isn’t gay,” Stan mentioned.

“No one fucking cares about Clyde, Stan. I thought you guys were going to book a study room.”

Kyle grimaced, “We did, but we got kicked out for inconsiderate behaviour. C’mon. You move slow as shit and I don’t want to be caught loitering in the halls.”

Kyle walked ahead and the other boys followed. Cartman fell in line beside Kenny and nudged him. “Hey, hey Kenny, you know what I heard? I heard someone stuck a stick up Kyle’s ass last period.”

Kenny snorted despite himself and Kyle glared at Cartman. “Not wanting a fucking detention for loitering around the halls makes me someone with a stick up their ass? You’re a piece of work, Fat ass.”

“Whatever, Jew.”

“The teachers have been making it easier for people to get detention,” Stan agreed, slinging an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Kyle sighed softly under the weight of his Soulmate’s arm and leaned into his touch. Kenny knew that Kyle liked it when Stan wore his letterman jacket. For one, it was nice and warm under his arm when Stan wore it and two, it made Stan look intimidating and manly as fuck. Kyle swore that there was a visible difference in the amount of swagger Stan displayed when he was wearing the jacket compared to when he wasn’t wearing the jacket but Kenny was one hundred percent certain that it was just an expensive piece of material that was imported to the States from overseas. Kenny had a hunch that it was probably from Bangladesh, China, or the Philippines. 

“God, so fucking gay,” Cartman said under his breath but Kyle still heard, pushing his way out of Stan’s grasp and smacking Cartman’s arm. Cartman recoiled and brushed off his arm with a disgusted look on his face. “Don’t infect me with gooties.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Gooties?” Stan scoffed.

“Gay—Cooties. Gooties. It was thinking Gayties but that sounds a little too close to titties for my liking.”

“Guys,” Kenny interrupted, cutting Kyle off before he could think up a witty comeback. “Cartman, I’m sorry. But I—“

“No, fuck that!” Kyle cried out. “We don’t need Cartman.”

“Need Cartman for what?” Cartman repeated.

“Yes we do, Kyle. Cartman will be able to figure out something!” Stan argued.

“NEED CARTMAN TO DO WHAT?” Cartman shouted angrily gaining the attention of several other students creeping around the halls.

Kenny stammered out, “I-I n-n-neh…I-I w-wah… Fuck, I can’t do this.”

Stan said. “You need to do it, Kenny. Or else.”

“The fucking fate of the universe doesn’t depend on this, assholes,” Kyle exclaimed fussily.

“Cartman, I need your help,” Kenny said in a quiet voice that hushed the bickering couple in front of him.  Cartman’s eyes widened and a smile spread deviously across his lips.

“Oh? I don’t think I heard you too well, Kinny,” He said. “Can you repeat that?”

“I,” Kenny started, a little louder this time. “I need your help, Cartman.”

“W-What was that?”

“Goddamn it, Cartman!” Kenny shouted. “I need your fucking help!”

“Alright, Jesus. No need to be so desperate. What do you need my help with?” Cartman replied, taking a sip of his milk.

“I need your help seducing Craig Tucker.”

Cartman coughed immediately, choking on the chocolate milk he was drinking. He immediately pulled over to the side of the hall and his friends watched him cough and sputter. He wiped off his face with the sleeve of his black motorcycle long-sleeved shirt. “Fuck, some came out of my nose. Shit, that’s gross.”

Kenny and Stan grinned. Kyle laughed rowdily, “Serves you right, Fat ass!”

“My ass isn’t that fat anymore so your insult doesn't work,” Cartman remarked pointedly. He was right, his ass had lost some of its punch.

“Fuck you, Cartman,” Kyle muttered, his arms angrily crossed over his chest.

“Alright, Kinny,” Cartman started, turning to the blond boy. “I’ll help you but only if you do something for me in return.”

Kenny’s face hardened. “What do I need to do?”

Cartman leaned in to Kenny, cupping around the boy’s ear and whispering something to him that Stan and Kyle couldn’t hear.

“No,” Kenny spat out. “I will never do it.”

“Oh, but you must,” Cartman replied nonchalantly. “Or else you will never get mah help.”

Cartman plucked Craig’s hat off Kenny’s head and held it away from him.

“Give it back, Cartman!”

Cartman dashed in front of them, much to the surprise of, well, everyone really. He ran over to one of the hall trash bins and held the hat over it. “If you come any closer, the hat gets it.”

Kenny paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t question him,” Kyle gulped. “He’s got a hostage.”

“Stop being an ass, Cartman, give Kenny his hat back,” Stan said.

“Only if he does what I asked him to do,” Cartman said. “It isn’t even that hard.”

“Fine, I’ll fucking do it!” Kenny said, taking out his phone and playing around with it for a moment before handing it to Cartman. “There. Pleased?”

“As punch but you still need to do that other little tiny thing,” Cartman announced, tapping at Kenny’s phone before handing it back.

Kenny rolled his eyes before he dropped to his knees in front of Cartman.

“Start,” Cartman ordered.

“Please, oh Lord Fucktard—“

“Don’t go off fucking script, Kinny!”

“—oh Lord Eric, Master of all things awesome and sexy. Please help this poor bag of shit.”

“Okay, fine, fine, I’ll help you, Kinny. Jesus, you’re so fucking desperate, I don’t understand.”

Stan's shoulders were shaking with silent laughter while Kyle was embarrassed to be seen with any of them. He sighed, “What else did you agree to?”

Cartman tossed the hat at Kenny and Kenny caught it easily. Kenny turned to Kyle, “Go on Twitter and then we never speak about it again.”

Kyle took out his phone and checked Kenny’s Twitter and saw that it had been updated. The newest post read, ’I have a big ass wart on my balls.’

Kyle passed his phone to Stan silently and they both turned to each other, cracking smiles that lead to snorts of repressed laughter.

“Fuck you guys,” Kenny growled as he marched ahead with Kyle, Stan, and Cartman in tow.

 

 

Study hall ended and the halls started to fill up with seas of people. Kenny was looking for one particular person, though, with tussled black hat head, coal grey eyes, and a resting bitch face that could cause a man’s testicles to permanently relocate inside their colon. Kyle was at his side, chewing a stick of Excel gum.

“Do you even know where he goes for Study Hall?” Kyle asked. “Craig doesn’t seem like the type to study.”

“Hmm, judging on appearances are we, Kyle?”

Kyle flushed. “I wasn’t—n-no, I didn’t mean to— “

“Calm down, man—” Then, something cut off Kenny before he could finish.

Oh man. He hadn’t guessed how great Craig would look without his hat. His black hair was curly and messy. Messier than that time Karen tried to braid Kyle's thick hair but with much less work. He looked like a hipster Instagram model but Kenny knew Craig wouldn't like that personification. The taller boy seemed uncomfortable, unused to the double-takes he was getting from other students. Craig hadn’t been seen without his hat since their elementary school’s lice screening and never for more than a few minutes.

His eyes caught Kenny and Kenny heard him through their link, _“Finally!”_

Craig weaved his way through the crowd, which wasn’t too difficult since he was a miniature giraffe.

Kenny moved to meet Craig and pulled the dark haired boy’s hat of his head. “Here you go, Tucker.”

Craig took the hat and slipped it on his head, sighing gratefully. “Thank God, I didn’t think I could go another minute without it.”

Kenny smiled softly. He didn't feel the need to say anything. A feeling that was new to the blond who often felt the need to fill the silence. He just looked at his Soulmate’s face. The little scar splitting his eyebrow at the tail, his cheeks slightly flushed from Kenny’s attention, the slight quivering of his lips, unsure if his words would betray him.

Kyle watched the exchange, his eyes wide.

“Uhm,” Craig broke the silence awkwardly. His eyes focused on everything other than Kenny. The ceiling, the floor, Kenny's chin, right over Kenny's shoulder, “I’ll, uhh, see you around, McCormick? You know, in class. I guess.”

“Mhm,” Kenny replied, slightly muffled by his parka.

_“Aren’t you hot?”_ Was the thought that came through from Craig's end,  _“Makes me hot just looking at you.”_

Kenny tilted his head, _“You’re hot_  point final. _Besides, I let you wear your hat. You have to let me wear my parka. We can be hot together.”_

Craig’s eyes went wide and he immediately ducked his head down. He turned on his heels quickly and joined Tweek who was standing a few feet away. Kenny watched them leave and Kyle watched Kenny watch them leave.

“Holy crap, you are totally in love with him.”

 

 

“Alright, I have a plan,” Cartman said finally to which all three sets of eyes turned and fixed on him.  They went to Cartman’s house and were busy eating cheesy poofs on his basement couch while watching _Bob’s Burgers._

Kyle paused Netflix and waved Cartman forward. “Don’t leave us in suspense.”

“I’ve been watching way too many chick flicks with Heidi,” Cartman started. “so, now, I know my shit when it comes to catching men.”

“God, I never thought I would be having this sort of conversation with you,” Stan muttered in awe.

“Shuddup, Stan, okay. The plan has three steps that are incredibly important and they must be in order. 1,2,3. Not 3,1,2 or something because then the plan makes no sense.”

“Duh,” Kyle squawked. “Who would even try 3,1,2? Idiots?”

“Step 1: Kinny has breach Craig’s life. You have to know his schedule, what he likes, who he likes, his body measurements, his hobbies. Know his ins and outs so that you can mold your schedule to his and see him as much as possible without seeming like a stalker.”

“B-but how—” Kenny sputtered.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Cartman interrupted. “Please save your questions until after the big plan is fully introduced."

Kenny shut his mouth and Cartman continued, “Step 2: Once you have correctly infiltrated Craig’s life, once he’s giving the right signals, you show him what he’s missing. Tease, flirt, and play around with him a little. I know Kinny knows the game. Finally, step 3: Reel ‘em in.”

Kenny raised his hand obediently.

“Yes, Kinny?”

“I have one question; how the hell am I going to get past Step 1?”

Cartman had a small smile on his face. “I have one idea; we need to stage a kidnapping after the football game on Saturday.”

Stan gawked, “Are you serious? You’re insane, Cartman.”

“You fucking pussies. Have some balls. We’re only going to kidnap Clyde Donovan and no one cares about Clyde’s stupid ass anyway.”


	6. Clyde-Nappers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clyde is a big baby, Kyle wishes he had better friends, and Bebe comes to the rescue (sort of).

“I can’t believe this is how I’m spending my Saturday night,” Kyle moaned in the passenger seat over the sound of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ and Clyde’s muffled screaming from the trunk. He pulled off the plastic clown mask concealing his paled face and released his curly red hair out of the rubber band that was holding it in a firm ponytail. “Stan, why the hell couldn’t we just go to the after party like normal human beings?”

“Goddamn it, Kahl, Shuddup! I can’t hear myself think!” Cartman screeched angrily as he drove his mother’s jeep. He threw a duplicate mask behind him, nearly hitting Kenny in the eye. Cartman blew a strand of shaggy brown hair out of his face.

Suddenly, Cartman hit the brakes and everyone lurched forward. Stan, who wasn't wearing his seatbelt, nearly fell over and Clyde bumped into the backseat and groaned wearily. Cartman banged the horn and held his palm there for ten seconds even though the other car had the right of way and Cartman was about to speed past a stop sign. 

“You all good back there, buddy?” Kenny asked, regretting the whole kidnapping part of Cartman’s plan.

 He only earned a half-hearted mutter of a response before Cartman scolded him for 'fucking talking to the victim in a civilized manner'.

After the football game, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman met Stan outside the locker room. Stan told them that Clyde was still changing out of his gear so they waited by the gym exit. When they saw Clyde exit with Bebe, kiss his Soulmate goodbye, and head to his car, they followed him as stealthily as ninjas. Luckily, Clyde had a tendency to park at the end of the parking lot. Stan also conveniently overheard that Clyde’s car remote was broken because Clyde complained very loudly to Token when they were at practice. As Clyde was manually unlocking his car door, they grabbed him and covered his head with a potato sack. 

With some difficulty, they bound his hands and feet together with duct tape. However, Kenny and Kyle had to hold down Clyde’s legs and Stan had to pin the other boy’s shoulders down on the pavement in order for Cartman to do so.

They sat in relative silence until they finally turned into Cartman’s driveway. The lights in the house were still on signalling to the boys that Liane Cartman was still awake and roaming around the house. Liane was pretty laid back most of the time and didn’t question much of the boys’ antics. Once, Kenny lived on their couch for a week and a half and Liane didn’t say shit. She even let Kenny eat his weight in Twinkies and dope ass oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. 

“Your mom is still up,” Kyle mumbled. “We’re doomed.” 

Cartman turned to Kyle and slapped him across the face. “Pull yourself together, Jew.”

“Besides, Cartman’s mom won’t give a shit,” Stan commented, which was probably true.

Kyle breathed in and out steadily for a moment, gaining his composure, before he nodded gravely. They all got out of the car and went to the trunk. They weren’t sure if it was a good or a bad sign that Clyde wasn’t making any more noise. They all put their clown masks over their faces and opened the trunk. Clyde was still in there, breathing heavily. They could tell where his mouth was because every time the kid breathed in, the mask would be sucked past his lips. He tried shimmying further into the trunk to avoid them. 

Cartman decided it might be a good idea to take off the potato sack, so he pulled it off Clyde’s head. Clyde was sniffling. His face was tear streaked and his teeth were chattering anxiously. “Ohmigod, please, I don’t w-wanna d-die, man. You—you can take whatever you want from me. Take my Playstation. T-take my bank card. I’ll give you m-my free Happy Meal coupon if you want!” 

"I don't fucking want a Happy Meal, fucktard!" Cartman exclaimed. He replaced the potato sack on Clyde’s head. "Idiot thinks I'm a fucking fatass or something."

"You are a fucking fatass," Kyle replied without skipping a beat.

Cartman grabbed Clyde by his taped forearms and attempted to pull him out of the trunk. “Holy crap, Clyde. You’re really heavy dude.”

Stan helped out and within seconds, Clyde was pulled out of the trunk and steadied on the sidewalk. He was visibly shaken and couldn’t walk on his own due to Cartman’s tape job so Kenny and Kyle had to steady him as he hopped at their side. Cartman marched everyone up the driveway to the front porch. Clyde almost fell down the stairs so it was a good thing Stan was walking behind the three boys. Cartman opened the front door and they dragged Clyde towards Cartman’s basement.

“Eric? Honey? Is that you?” Liane Cartman called from the kitchen.

Cartman stiffened before answering, “Y-yeah, mom. I just came back from the game and stuff.”

They all heard Liane’s footsteps coming closer and Cartman ran into the kitchen to intercept her, “Wow, mom, are you making cookies?”

“Oh? Why, yes I am!”

At this point, Kenny and Kyle were trying to be as stealthy as possible while trying to rush a sniffling, sloppy, hopping Clyde down Cartman’s basement stairs.

“Oh, is that Stan?” Liane Cartman asked, seeing Stan’s back retreating from her sight. “Are you having friends over?”

Stan turned around, “It’s just me. I left some homework here a couple of days ago when I was tutoring Cartman.”

“Okay, Sweetie,” Liane said. “I’m so happy Eric has nice friends like you, Stanley.”

Yep. Totally nice. Stan paled slightly at the thought. He raced down the stairs.

“I’m gonna go help him look,” Cartman muttered as he left his mother in the kitchen.

“Honey? Would you like some cookies while you look?”

“No, Mom! Do I look like I’m fucking eight or something? Jesus!”

Cartman met them downstairs and immediately pointed his finger at Stan. “Just picking up homework, huh? Now you won’t be able to fucking stay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Looking for ‘homework’ takes five minutes.”

Kenny knew they never really did homework anyways. Stan’s tutoring sessions was a reason for Cartman and Stan to share a joint in the basement with the window slightly open. In fact, Cartman and Stan were mutually failing the same classes: History, English, and Ethics. Cartman would do better if he asked Kenny to tutor him over Stan. Kenny was actually passing every course, contrary to popular belief. Besides, he was certain he had a much better stash than Stan.

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle whimpered. “Let’s just deal with this, I want to go home and take a fucking bath.”

“—Pussy.”

“Shut the fuck up Cart—” Stan covered his Soulmate’s mouth, trying his best to conceal Cartman’s identity.

Kenny sat Clyde down on a sofa in the basement. After their hero days, Cartman’s basement became a regular hang out spot morphing from swords, heroes, and dragons to heavy metal rock band posters, scantily clad ladies, and oddly shaped bongs that Cartman collected. 

“Alright, Donovan,” Cartman said. “I am going to take off your potato sack now. You’re not going to talk or scream or anything. Just listen. We’re gonna ask you a few questions and then we’ll let you go, capiche?”

The potato sack nodded and Stan did the honours of removing it. Clyde was wide-eyed, his hair matted with sweat and tears. He sniffled a couple of times.

“We should take our masks off too,” Kenny murmured uneasily. “He looks like he’s about to shit himself.” 

Clyde looked outraged, “I-I’m not going to sh-shit myself!”

Kyle nodded. “I agree. This is way more serious than it needs to be. We just need Clyde to answer some dumb ass questions.”

“You guys are no fucking fun! Seriously,” Cartman growled as he pulled off the stupid mask. “Why did I even buy these from Aliexpress if it wasn’t for this exact reason?” 

“C-Cartman? Why d-did you fucking kidnap me, man? So uncool!” Clyde sputtered incredulously.

He gaped as the other members of the group showed themselves. “I thought we were groovy, Stan! This is sooooo fucked up, bro.”

“We needed to ask you some questions. So, we needed to get you away from everybody for a while,” Stan retorted.

“Well, you could’ve just, I dunno, invited me over to Cartman’s house?”

“Plain Jane,” Kenny mocked.

“I'm vanilla, okay?” Clyde crowed. “I am totally happy being a plain jane man if this is what it means to be extra!”

“Shut da fuck up!” Cartman yelled, silencing Clyde.

“All you need to do is answer our questions and we’ll bring you back to your car,” Kenny said cordially.

“W-wait,” Clyde hiccupped and then continued. “Is this about you and Craig?”

Kenny rubbed at his cheeks, an embarrassed blush starting to speckle his neck. 

“Of course it is,” Kyle said dryly. “So, now you understand how determined we are to get information. The whole thing with Kenny getting Stan to ask you was stupid.”

“But I don’t know anything!” Clyde cried out before Stan could say something in edgewise.

“We just want general information,” Cartman demanded. “School schedule, favourite food, favourite coulor.”

“Uhm, I c-can text you a picture of it right now,” Clyde mumbled hysterically. “It’s on my phone. In my right pocket,” at that, Kenny snaked his hand into Clyde’s pocket and pulled out his phone and started to play around with it. “I think he likes Hamburgers but he’s not picky and his favourite colour is blue, I think.”

Stan pushed Cartman aside and said, “We want to know something that no one else knows, Clyde." 

“L-like what?”

“You guys hang out a lot together, dontcha? Does he have a place he goes to be alone?”

“Oh—Oh! There’s this one place by Stark’s pond, he goes there a bit. An—And we like to go out the Nurse’s exit at school. Craig smokes out there when he’s bored, which is often. Sometimes, he’ll hide out there when he says he’s going to the nurse,” Clyde blubbered.

Kenny whistled, one long drawn out note, and drew his gaze back to Clyde. “Yeah, don’t tell Craig or anyone about this, okay?”

“But I—” Clyde started before he noticed how Cartman grabbed the potato sack menacingly. “No, no, no! I don’t wanna die! I won’t tell anybody! Please, don’t put the sack back on!”

Cartman dropped his arms down to his side and tapped the potato sack against his leg. “Okay? We reached an agreement? Let’s get Clyde back to—“

“Wait, I have one more question,” Kenny interrupted. He turned to Clyde and Clyde could see his cobalt eyes burning in the dim basement. “Boxers or briefs?”

“Oh my god,” Clyde moaned dramatically.

“Seriously, Ken? You get to ask one more question and that’s what you came up with?” Kyle said blankly.

“Are you kidding?” Kenny smirked. “I have lots of questions. So, I added myself as a contact in his phone! I never knew Clyde was such an A grade snitch.” 

“Jesus, I’m not made of steel,” Clyde whimpered. “You fucking kidnapped me! I had three heart attacks on the way here! A-and I think he wears boxers.”

Kyle looked surprised, “Really? I actually assumed he was a tighty whiteys type of guy.”

“I did not need to know that,” Cartman mumbled.

“You know what assuming does. It makes an ass out of ‘u’ and ‘me’,” Kenny reminded smugly.

“I have a good question,” Stan said suddenly. “I've noticed that Craig and you hang out after Football. Does he stay behind and wait for you?”

“I’m impressed, Stanley,” Kenny grinned.

Clyde opened his mouth and started to say something before reconsidering the option. He bit his lip and looked reluctant to answer.

"Welp, I guess we are going to be water boarding him," Cartman said excitedly.

"Wait, what?" Clyde yelped.

"I don't think I'm ready to conduct a war crime," Kyle said defeatedly.

"NO--no, no, N-Oh,nono," Clyde screeched. "We walk home together!”

Stan snorted, “You walk home together?”

“Shut up, Marsh! I only have Craig stick around so something like this stupid kidnapping thing doesn’t happen for real! Plus, I don’t have my car during regular school days ‘cause my dad thinks I’ll wreck it or something.”

“Anything else?” Kenny said.

“Seriously, Kenneth?! Your sister is best friends with Tricia,” Clyde deadpanned, “Fucking find a way to exploit that and get me the fuck out of here!”

Kenny was shell shocked. He hadn’t registered that Karen still hung out with Tricia. He remembered walking his little sister over to the Tucker residence once or twice when Karen was younger but when Karen turned ten, she decided that she could start walking to her friends’ houses on her own without Kenny’s help, which made Kenny a little bitter at the time.  

They tried to unbind Clyde but Cartman had taped him up so well that they had to cut Clyde out with scissors. Adult scissors as Kenny called them since they had no rounded edges. Finally, when they got Clyde out, Clyde bolted. He clumsily ran up the stairs, practically limping due to what Kenny assumed was a numb leg. 

“Are we going to chase after him?” Stan asked as he watched the brunette whip the basement door open and run through Cartman’s house, screaming bloody murder.

“Nah, fuck it,” Kyle grumbled.  “We got all we needed from him. At least we don’t have to drive him around or nothing.”

“Eric? Sweetie?” Liane called from the doorway into the basement. “A little boy just ran out the front door, is that one of your little friends?”

Then, Liane noticed Kyle and Kenny staring at her, bug-eyed. “Oh, hello boys! Eric didn’t tell me you two were over! Stanley, did you end up finding your—”

“MAM!” Cartman yelled. “FAHK OFF!”

“Hey, Ms. C,” Kenny drawled. “What does a man gotta do to get some of those cookies you offered earlier?”

 

 

Clyde stumbled back to the high school parking lot. It took him nearly twenty minutes to run back with a bum leg but he did finally achieved it. He looked down at his phone and hurriedly called Bebe.

_“Hey, Babe! What’s going on?”_

“B-bebe, I just got fucking kidnapped.”

_“What the fuck are you talking about?"_

"Jesus, Bebe, I was fucking Clydenapped!"

"Do _you want me to come get you?”_

“N-no, no. I’m b-back at the school, I think I’m okay,” Clyde mumbled.

_“No. You’re staying_ right _there. You hear me, Clyde? Wendy and I are coming to get you.”_

“Are you sure?” He could hear Bebe moving around in the background then the phone was handed to someone else. 

_“Hey, Clyde. It’s Wendy. Are you okay? Bebe and are getting into the car so that we can come get you. Can you unlock your car and get in?”_

Clyde walked up to his car which was still at the edge of the lot and found his keys sitting beside his wheel. He must’ve dropped them when Cartman, Kyle, Stan and Kenny caught him. He unlocked the door and got in the car before replying to Wendy. 

“Yeah, I just got in the car.”

_“Okay, just breathe. We’ll be there soon. Bebe’s really worried about you,”_ Wendy hung up.

That made Clyde’s heart soar. He leaned back into the driver’s seat and sighed contently. After a few minutes. A new car came into the parking lot and stopped beside his. Then, Clyde saw Bebe turn off the car and walk around Clyde’s car in order to hop into the passenger’s seat. Wendy climbed into the backseat. They were both in their pyjamas.

“What the hell was that, babe? Are you okay?” Bebe said, hugging Clyde awkwardly.

“Fuck, that was fucking scary.”

“Who did this to you?” Wendy asked, her face narrowed in determination.

“Cartman and those fuckers,” Clyde admitted and both girls tsked.

“I can’t believe Stan or Kyle would do this!” Wendy exclaimed.

“If Cartman’s in the mix, I can believe it. But why would they do that to you, Clyde? You aren’t on their radar.”

“No,” Clyde answered softly. He didn’t want to rat out Kenny and Craig’s sort of relationship.

“Clyde, you have to tell me. I’m your Soulmate. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Bebe urged, her amber eyes shining.

Clyde nodded, the exhaustion permeating his bones was enough to convince him that he didn't want to pick a fight with his Soulmate tonight. “I’m going to tell you, but you can’t tell anyone, Bebe! You can’t tell anyone either, Wendy, or else I’m a dead man!”

“I promise not to tell,” the girls said in unison.

“Craig is Kenny’s Soulmate.”

Wendy went slack-jawed while Bebe laughed loudly. “You’re kidding right, babe? Kenny’s with Tammy. He said that, like, literally three days ago.”

“No, he lied to everyone about Tammy! You've gotta believe me!" Clyde protested. "He and Craig are actually Soulmates and he, Kyle, Stan, and Cartman kidnapped me in order to get information on Craig!”

“Holy Crap,” Wendy said. “They’d probably be a cute couple though.”

“That’s totally not the point, Wen,” Bebe said.

“I agree,” Clyde said.

“The point is that Clyde didn’t tell me until now! Why didn’t you tell me?” Bebe exclaimed in frustration. “I know all the drama!”

“What? What about me being kidnapped?” Clyde screeched.

“Oh, well of course, that’s the point. I’m still angry you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

Wendy said, “It’s Craig’s secret to tell, not Clyde’s.”

Bebe gasped dramatically. “You’re right. I should be mad at Kenny not Clyde! I’m gonna call him— “

“No!” Both Wendy and Clyde cried before Clyde grabbed Bebe’s cellphone.

“What? Why not?”

“Obviously, Cartman’s gang will beat my ass, Bebe!”

Bebe pouted. “I’m really frustrated. I can’t believe I didn’t know. I'm, like, one of Kenny's main gossipers! It’s a juicy story too. It’s like the tea of the century and I’m tasting it lukewarm.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “I understand Bebe, but at the same time, we have nothing to do with Craig and Kenny.”

“Well, now I do. Kenny’s little posse attacked my boo.”

“I-I get that too bu—“

“Boo, you know what we’re going to do?” Bebe interrupted Wendy, attracting Clyde’s attention.

“What?” He asked.

“We’re going to meddle of course! They deserve it after fucking with you!” Bebe insisted, causing Wendy and Clyde to look at her incredulously. 

“I am not going into that plan! That is my best friend! He has a lot of shit on his plate and I’m not into the idea of getting even with my kidnappers!” Clyde shouted.

“I agree with Clyde, you’re being unreasonable. How would we even fuck with them anyway?” Wendy crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“Listen, listen, we’ll intercept them at every given moment, stopping Kenny from having any alone time with Craig, just meddle a little so that their stupid little plan doesn’t work anyway! They’re approaching Craig all wrong! I know Craig’s not a courting type of guy. You have to be upfront with a man like that!”

 “This doesn’t seem like a conversation you should be having with your Soulmate here,” Wendy said.

“Well said, Wendy. I’m leaving,” Clyde growled. “Get out.”

“Whaaaaat? Baaaaabe,” Bebe whined.

“Nope, get out, I can’t even believe you right now,” Clyde responded coldly. Both girls got out of the boy’s car and Clyde started up his vehicle. “Bebe, you have to get your priorities in order. I’m done.”

With that, Clyde drove off, leaving Wendy and Bebe in his exhaust fumes.

“Fuck him,” Bebe spat, kicking a rock. “I can’t believe him! I came here, for him, in my pyjamas! In my fucking pyjamas, Wendy!”

“Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t do it earlier,” Wendy murmured as she followed after her friend.

“There’s so much drama, I don’t understand,” Bebe sighed. “Drama on Instagram, drama on Twitter. I just thought I knew it all! Do you know how much time I spend investigating on social media, Wen?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Wendy replied.

“10 hours or more! I pride myself on it! I check every one of my social media accounts, I use separate accounts to follow people who’ve blocked me, I have over seventeen different accounts at the moment!” 

“If you spent that kind of motivation on homework, I’m sure you’d be an Honours student.”

“I just, I feel so, so— “

“Unhappy? Sad? Frustrated? Dejected? Miserable?”

“No, no, like I have no ability or skill in a specified activity or area?”

“Useless?” Wendy asked.

“Yes! Exactly.”

“Amateurish? Mediocre?”  Wendy continued.

“Yeah, you can stop now. I get it. But I feel that.”

“I think you should really think of Clyde’s position in all of this, Bebe, you really hurt his feelings.”

“His feelings are easy to hurt,” Bebe countered. She grabbed Wendy’s shoulders forcefully. “Oh! I have another idea!”

“What?” Wendy asked, generally exhausted by her best friend.

“You could seduce Craig!”

“Wait, what?” Wendy shouted.

“Not really, Wen. Just in order to intercept Kenny and make Cartman’s life a living hell!”

“That might just make Clyde’s life a living hell!”

“Clyde will be fine, he’s with me. I’ll take care of him.”

“No, this is too much,” Wendy said as she got in Bebe’s Suzuki. “I wouldn’t be able to do something like that.”

Bebe took a moment to get in her car and grab both of Wendy’s hands. “Wendy, I know how much you hate Cartman—“

Wendy interrupted, “I do hate Cartman.”

“He’s an ignorant asshole with no consideration of anyone else, Wen. He’s a stupid, ignorant, misogynistic, white supremacist! We need to show him—show them—a lesson! What can we do? We can fuck with his friend’s love life and Cartman’s stupid ass plan which was probably made to make Craig Kenny’s bitch anyhow!” Wendy sighed shakily and Bebe ran her hands through her hair. “Besides, they fuck with Clyde, they fuck with me. I _need_ to show them that they can’t just do that shit to people!”

“Yeah,” Wendy agreed. “They shouldn’t do that. It’s not right.”

“Exactly. All you need to do is get close to Craig. Just talk to him and discourage Kenny a little. That’ll make them antsy! Simple! Then, we’ll see what we do from there!”


	7. In the heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig has trouble sleeping, Clyde gets confronted, and Kenny gets something he wants.

Laura was seated at the kitchen table, various bundles of yarn laid out by colour on a placemat. Blues, then pinks, yellows, and greens. Her knitting needles ticked together as she worked in a Garnet Stitch, diligently curling and binding off near the end of a row. The thing she was making was rectangular and bland, in a pale green that resembled a broccoli stalk. 

Craig stared at it, his mouth set in a tight line, “Why’d you pick that colour?”

“Craig, please,” Laura replied briskly. “I’m focusing.”

“But it’s _green_.”

“And what’s wrong with that,” his mother replied, stopping mid-needle tick. 

Craig held his tongue so his Mother continued to knit. She said, “It doesn’t matter. It isn’t for you.”

“Is it for Tricia?”

“Craig, what did I say.”

“You’re focusing.”

“So, where should you be?” 

Craig fell silent. The proper answer was: anywhere but there. His mother’s knitting was rhythmic; tap, slide, rub, slide. Craig sat down crossed legged on the kitchen linoleum by her chair, his left elbow against his thigh and his head propped in his palm. He listened to the song his mother played. The melody stopped abruptly and Craig looked up.

“Can you find something else to do? You know how much I hate when you watch me. It’s annoying.” 

Craig got up dutifully but didn’t know what he should do. He shifted around; a shadow in his mother’s kitchen. He opened the fridge door but wasn’t hungry. He searched through the cutlery drawers aimlessly. He dragged He took a plastic glass out of an upper cabinet above the sink, ran the water and filled the cup to the brim. He drank the cup halfway before he drained the rest of it down the sink. He did this two more times before Tricia started crying.

“Go and deal with her, Craig,” Laura said. It wasn’t a demand but also wasn’t a suggestion. It was a passing thought. Craig’s skin prickled.

He sped through the kitchen and entered the living room where Tricia was lying in her rocker in front of the television. She was struggling, arching her back and wiggling insatiably. Craig plucked her out of the chair and held her against his chest. Almost immediately, Tricia gurgled and held his finger within her tiny ones. He admired the little half-moon nails pinching his skin.

“Lemme go, Trish,” He murmured, pulling his finger out of her grasp. He carried her over to the couch and sat down with her. Tricia was a worm; trying to slither out of his grasp which resulted in Craig getting bumped with open palms and little feet.  “You’re gonna make me drop you one day.”

When they were both in a stable position, he checked over Tricia’s onesie, running her finger between the edge of her chubby thighs and her neck and making sure that the sensitive skin there wasn’t being pinched by her clothes. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Why’re you crying?”

He stood her up and held her steady with his hands at her waist. She turned her head away to avoid his stare. “So that’s how you’re gonna play it, Trish? Sooner or later, you’re gonna have to get up and walk around on your own. No more wiggling or crawling but actual walking.”

She turned back to him and puckered her lips, displeased at the situation. Craig noticed this and smiled widely. “What a grumpy baby.”

At this, Tricia’s frown fluttered and Craig continued, “Who’s the grumpy-trishy. Grumpy girl.”

Finally, Tricia grinned, the tip of her tongue peeking outside of her lip. She laughed and Craig cooed at her happily.

“Craig.”

He heard his mother’s slippers sliding across the linoleum before he saw her appear at the entrance to the living room so he didn’t look over at her and continued to look at Tricia’s ruddy cheeks.

Laura approached and took the baby from Craig. She carried her off into the kitchen.

Craig sat there and stared at the television, playing a Dr. Phil rerun. A young girl was shaking her head obstinately, being confronted by her family. He could imagine what they were saying even though the volume was muted:

_“That’s neglect,” Dr. Phil probably stated through his moustache._

_“Well, I—” the girl started._

_Dr. Phil was one step ahead, “If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have done it and right now, you’d be acting responsibly and getting help instead of proving that you’re a criminal they haven’t caught yet.”_

_The girl smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes, “You can believe whatever you want.”_

_Dr. Phil leaned back in his chair, “All I’m doing is stating the facts. You’re a neglectful parent and those children deserve to be in the care of a mother who looks out for their well-being.”_

_“I’m doing what I can Dr. Phil.”_

_“Obviously, you aren’t or else I wouldn’t have been called.”_

_“The only reason they called you is because they want to take custody away from me,” The girl stated simply, gesturing towards her parents._

_“Let me straighten this out: does your son take care of your baby?”_

_“Yes, but—“_

_“No, no, let me continue. Do you or do you not have your son clothing, feeding, and taking care of your daughter when he should be at school or just being a kid?”_

_“It’s all he says Dr. Phil,” the woman’s mother said, “Grandma, Mommy never lets me go outside. Mommy tells me to go look after the baby. Mommy’s always crying.”_

_“That isn’t true,” the woman protested._

_“You’re delusional!” The mother scoffed, “whenever he comes over all he says is ‘Mommy hates me’ or ‘Mommy says I’m annoying’.”_

_Dr. Phil sighed and this got both the mothers’ attention, “Are you depressed?”_

_The young woman composed herself, “I was diagnosed with depression when I was fifteen.”_

_“Are you depressed at this moment in time and are you taking medical measures to make sure you are mentally capable of taking care of two children?”_

_At this question, the woman sighed shakily, “No but he’s so much better with her than I am, Dr. Phil, he’s so mature.”_

_“Do you think they should have someone capable taking care of them? Are you that person.”_

_“No, not according to you.”_

“Craig.”

_“That’s nice.” Dr. Phil said. “You do know that you’ve confessed on national television, right? As a medical professional, I’m now obliged to report this to the proper authorities if you are still unwilling to get help.”_

“Craig, listen to me.”

_The audience clapped and the camera panned out to show smiling faces and nods of approval from the audience._

“Damn it, Craig. Listen to me!”

Craig blinked and turned away from the television. His mother was holding Tricia in her arms. Her tiny body was clad in broccoli green and Craig realized it made the bright red rash on her cheeks look like she’d been slapped.

Laura clicked her tongue as Tricia sputtered and started to whine. “She doesn’t like me. I’m not fit to be her mother.”

“She likes you,” Craig said earnestly.

“Well, maybe I don’t like her.” Laura replied simply staring at her baby’s face, her red cheeks, her copper hair, her freckles, “She doesn’t even look like me. _You_ don’t look like me. I hate it.”

She handed him Tricia and continued to stare at them; Craig cradling Tricia, Tricia pulling at the wool of the sweater. Her eyes were soft but the iciness in them remained. She reached out her hand and ran her fingers through Craig’s black hair, a chill ran through him. “Craig, every time you lie to me, it makes me love you a little less.”

Suddenly, Craig awoke with a start. Suddenly seventeen, suddenly not a kid. The moon was shining through the gap in his curtain and the ray of its light streaked his pillow and the wall behind him. He ran his hand over his bedside table and found his phone, grabbing it, and checking the time. He squinted at the brightness of the screen. 3 A.M. 

“Fuck,” he swore, rubbing his eyes.

He got up, clad in his boxers, and stumbled over to his laptop. Stripe squeaked from his cage. Craig sat down at his desk and opened up his laptop. He was still logged on to Twitter. He went to his DMs and messaged Tweek.

_“You still up?”_

Tweak’s response was a simple laughing emoji and Craig allowed a small smile to break through his guard.

 

 

Craig was surprised when Clyde’s curtains weren’t open at ten a.m. He noted this observation to Tweek who immediately told him to walk over and make sure Clyde wasn’t dead, kidnapped, murdered, or worse, emancipated. 

Clyde was an early bird and on any normal day, would be out the door before Craig was. Without fail, every morning Clyde opened his curtains. Today was an exception. He told Tweek he would check on Clyde before closing his laptop.

Laura Tucker, much to Craig’s surprise, interrupted Craig and treated him, his sister, and Thomas to a full breakfast which they all ate warily. Laura watched them eat, not taking a plate for herself until her family finished and then she went and ate in her bedroom. As soon as her slipper feet shuffled away, Tricia went upstairs, changed out of her pyjamas, and ran out of the house with her book bag while Craig decided whether he would wear pants or shorts.

Token was having a general get together later on in the evening which Craig was probably going to only to skip out twenty minutes in so that he could meet Tweek after his shift at his family’s coffee shop ended. Tweek wanted to take care of Stripe for a couple of days and asked Craig if he could take the guinea pig after his shift, which Craig accepted.

It also gave him a good reason to skip out on most of Token’s party. He had custody issues to deal with.

Craig hated parties but Token’s parties were ones Craig was expected to participate in. Clyde, Token, and Jimmy always wanted Craig to join their drinking games but Craig made a point of not drinking unless necessary. Bebe always urged him to dance with her and Clyde. ‘Have some fun,’ they’d say, ‘you’re so wound up’ they'd say. Craig always disappointed his friends and turned them down so he just didn’t go. With everything going on with his mother, Kenny, and Kenny’s treatment of Clyde, Craig just wanted to tell everyone to fuck off for the evening.

He took one last glance at his friend’s window and closed curtain.

Craig never did what he was about to do. Not often anyways. He grabbed his cellphone, rushed out of his room, down the stairs, and out the front door. He cut across the lawn connecting his house and Clyde’s which was now green with late spring grass. The sun was glaring and hot overhead and Craig was certain it was strong enough to give him a sunburn. He regretted wearing a black hoodie out.

He knocked on the Donovan’s door and waited a moment. Clyde’s father, Roger Donovan, answered.

“Oh, Craig! How are you doing? Gosh, you’re a lot taller than I last saw you,” He said with a chuckle.

Craig hadn’t gotten any taller but he let the subject go. “Hey, Mr. Donovan. I’m looking for Clyde, is he upstairs?”

“Yep, you can come on in, if you want. I’ve got lots of work to do so if you can go up and wake him, that would be great.” Clyde’s father left the door open and retreated into the house. Craig headed in, glancing at the photos of Clyde, Roger, and Clyde’s late mother, Betsy, up on the walls of the hallway. Roger stood nearby, not really saying anything.

“I’m just…I’m gonna head up now,” Craig murmured awkwardly, unsure of how to end the conversation. Roger hummed. Craig walked up the stairs and down the hall to Clyde’s room.

Craig knocked a few times. “Clyde! Open up.”

“Mmf?”

Craig rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re decent. I’m coming in.”

Craig opened the door and saw Clyde knotted in his comforter. Clyde’s walls were decorated with concert posters and selfies of him and Bebe that were taken over the years. Craig wasn’t much of a picture person and tended to physically avoid pictures if they were being taken around him. It was for this reason that the only picture of him and Clyde together was one they had taken during a rock climbing expedition when they were fifteen. It was framed on Clyde’s bedside table and Craig was a big blue blur in one corner.

“You gonna get up?”

“Mm…Do I have to?” Clyde responded lazily.

“No, but didn’t you want to get ready for Token’s party?” Craig realized it was pretty early but Clyde was usually a go-getter for these types of things.

“Mm not going. Too fucking tired.”

Craig raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Where did you go after the game?”

Clyde sprang to his senses, sitting up so quickly that Craig jerked back. “Nowhere! I went nowhere!”

Craig crossed his arms over his chest, doing his best suspicious mother impression. “Oh? Why don’t I believe you?”

One reason was that Clyde had bags under his eyes that were larger than Craig’s fingernails. Another reason was the way Clyde’s lip twitched. It was as if he _wanted_ to tell Craig something.

Clyde coughed and looked away from Craig’s prying glare, “No, seriously. I didn’t do anything last night.”

Clyde immediately changed the subject, “Don’t you want to ask how the game went?”

“How did it go?” Craig asked, letting the other conversation drop for now.

“We won!” Clyde exclaimed, a big grin on his face.

“So no more problems with Marsh on the field?”

“Um, no, why would we have any problems?” Clyde muttered quickly in a soft voice, “We never had any problems, you’re so silly Craig.”

“So, you went out with Stan last night?”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”  Clyde yelped, waving his hands frantically. “I don’t even remember seeing Stan during the game! I didn’t even see Cartman, Kenny, or Kyle in the stands!”

“That’s funny since he’s the Quarterback,” Craig said sarcastically. “I didn’t even mention Cartman, Broflovski, or McCormick.”

Clyde clamped his mouth shut and stared at Craig, barely daring to breathe.

“I’m guessing you went out with the four of them then? You could have just told me.”

“It’s not like I meant to be there, they didn’t take no for an answer.”

Craig suddenly understood and Clyde’s eyes widened comically. The pair sat in silence for a moment before Craig turned on his heels and left Clyde’s bedroom. Clyde stared at the vacant spot next to his open door where his best friend stood just a moment ago before he jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over part of his sheets as he did so. He ran after Craig who, at this point, was leisurely walking out his front door.

“Craig! Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go see Tweek at work.”

“Why?”

“He wants to get Stripe for the rest of the weekend. I want to know when I should come by to drop him off,” Craig answered even though he had discussed that with Tweek on Twitter.

“O-oh,” Clyde stammered, a wave of relief washing over his body.

“Why, Clyde? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Oh, no. Nope. No Siree. Not at all.”

Craig sent him a smile over his shoulder but Clyde noticed that it didn’t meet the icy look in his eyes. It reminded Clyde of the look Craig’s father always gave him, “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“You going to Token’s party? Now that I’m up I might as well go,” Clyde mumbled.

“Depends,” Craig replied idly before shutting the door between the two boys. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and wondered if he should go get his headphones before heading off.  Fuck it, Craig had shit to do.

He walked to the sidewalk and started following it in the direction of the east side of town. He passed Henrietta’s house and then Jimmy’s. The grass was a dusty blond colour with some tufts of green sprouting up here and there and the little breeze that passed tussled it. Craig thought that the breeze was a bit of a waste of energy on Mother Nature’s part because it only shifted the warm, musty air around him. He could feel the humidity sticking to his skin and causing his hoodie to be heavier than usual. He pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

Some of the goth kids were smoking around the bus stop but Craig didn’t pay them any attention. Some stole glances at him as he passed but they were engrossed in whatever it was they did all day. Craig heard they went and stole cigarettes from outside town and hung out by South Park elementary harassing any little kids who walked by. Tricia told him that she flipped a goth off one time and ran off, effectively living to tell the tale.

A van turned at the curb and Craig recognized Ryan Valmer, Jimmy’s dad. Jimmy was sitting in the passenger seat and Craig tipped his hat at the seventeen-year-old.  He wasn’t able to see Jimmy’s reaction but Craig knew Jimmy thought it was funny when Craig tried to act gentlemanly.

He crossed the street, kicking pebbles as he walked forward. South Park had little spots of land which were left undeveloped. Instead of packing a couple of condos in, the town decided to leave the little forested areas alone. Craig enjoyed seeing how proudly the evergreens stood even in the heat of the summer and couldn’t understand why anyone else would come live in South Park anyway. It was a bum of a town whose residents mucked around all day. Craig was certain that Skeeter’s Bar was just as rowdy in the morning as it was at night.

Craig sighed mentally at the prospect of having to walk by Cartman, Stan, and Kyle’s houses. It wasn’t that he hated them per se but—no, he didn’t dislike them, either. He disapproved of their actions for the most part and hated how much energy was needed to be a part of the daily schemes the group took part in. He had nothing against them, really. Except Peru. Only Peru.

Walking past New Kid’s house brought back a lot of memories about such schemes. New Kid moved away shortly before they started fifth grade. Tweek thought it was a drag since the New Kid had such amazing crime fighting moves but Craig hadn’t even thought of getting the dude’s name. Hell, even Cartman still called the kid Douchebag.

Butters was sitting on his front porch dreamily watching the clouds roll by. Suddenly, his eyes caught Craig and he yelped. “Gosh, you scared me there!”

“Sorry, Butters. Just walking by,” Craig explained awkwardly.

“It’s no problem! Golly, you don’t come by here often, do ya?” Butters responded, getting up from his spot on the porch and approaching. “What are you up to on this pretty morning?”

“Gotta visit someone,” Craig murmured, eyes locked on the path ahead of him instead of the short blond that accompanied him. Something about Butter’s presence reminded Craig of Tweek, without all the twitching and the punching, of course.

“Hmm,” Butters hummed. “Who could you be visiting around here? Not that it’s any of mah business, really, just makin’ casual conversation.”

 Craig wanted to avoid being cold towards Butters so he said, “It isn’t much of a visit but more of a delivery, I guess.”

“Oh? So you’re gunna drop something off?”

“Kind of?”

“Oh. I have to see Eric. He told me to wait outside for him but he still isn’t out here.”

Craig turned to him before saying, “Why don’t you go and knock on his door? Cartman’s mom will tell you if he’s up or not.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Eric is the worst at meeting deadlines,” Butters agreed. “I just thought that— “

“Cartman’s not the most reliable person, dude.”

“I know that, but he isn’t such a bad guy,” Butters insisted softly.

Butters could find the good in anyone, Craig decided, even if that person was someone like Eric Cartman. He looked down at the boy’s hair which was shaved along the sides but left long on the top of his head. Like a cotton puff. He hadn’t changed his haircut since middle school because his parents liked it.

Butters walked along the sidewalk with Craig before they ended up at Eric Cartman’s walkway. “Well, I hope you’re meeting—oh woops!— delivery works out for you, Craig!”

Craig watched as the blond approached the house and rang the doorbell before continuing his trek.It would be annoying if Craig had to come across Eric. He passed Stan’s house and Kyle’s house, noticing shadows of people moving around through the windows. He smirked to himself with the triumph of not running into anyone besides Butters.

He was passing by the gap in the fence that led to the playground when he noticed Stan and Kyle walking down the path, holding hands, and being sappy. Craig swore and walked a little faster so that the pair didn’t see him and hid behind the closest evergreen tree he found.  He overheard a bit of their conversation as they passed.

“—I still can’t believe Cartman’s gonna let Butters in on the plan. I mean Butters is, well, _Butters_ ,” Stan said.

“Butters is a nice guy,” Kyle admitted, “that’s why I was a little shocked to hear about it too.”

“Kenny didn’t mind it, though, he and Butters are bros.”

“But I can’t see Butters doing anything really _underhanded_. Or sneaky. All his evil plans are pretty, umm, what’s the word?”

“Juvenile? Mediocre?” Stan replied.

Kyle looked at his boyfriend, a teasing smile on his lips, “I thought you only got a C in English.”

“I did, that’s why I started looking at some online thesauruses for help on my essays,” Stan explained and Kyle laughed. “Not funny, Kyle.”

Craig slipped away from the tree once their voices began to fade away from earshot. Then, he continued forward. Soon enough, he reached the train tracks and heard the shouts of two distinct raised voices. Craig watched as Stuart left the house in a huff, followed quickly after by Carol who yelled at Stuart’s retreating back. Stuart got in his car and sped off just as Carol slammed the door of their home behind her.

Craig hesitated. It didn’t seem like it was the best time for him to be seen around the McCormick house. He thought about turning around but he knew that he needed to talk to Kenny about the harassment Clyde was going through. He took a deep breath and decided to approach the fence surrounding Kenny’s backyard in order to get an assessment of the current situation back there. Maybe, he could climb the fence and try to get Kenny’s attention somehow. He would throw pebbles at the boy’s window but Craig wasn’t even sure where exactly Kenny’s room was. He did know that Kenny’s backyard fence had one loose plank that Kenny had used when they were all younger to sneak back into his house at ungodly hours. A super hero’s work was never done and Craig knew that Mysterion took his duties very seriously. 

He took hold of the loose plank and parted it slightly to see into the yard. Craig wasn’t expecting to see Kenny, lounging on an old plastic beach chair, wearing only a ratty pair of denim shorts. His skin was sun kissed already and it hadn’t been too long since the rainy season. Craig was envious of Kenny’s skin. If there was one thing Craig didn’t like about his body, it was his milky white complexion. He couldn’t stay in the sun for too long without becoming a lobster. And here Kenny was, exposing his coffee with cream coloured skin to the sun above him. His eyes were closed, blond eyelashes kissing his cheeks. His freckles stood out more prominently than usual, looking like little constellations on his skin. Craig wanted to map them out.

He shook his head vehemently, a flush rising to his cheeks. He replaced the wooden plank and turned on his heels, facing away from the fence. Nope, nuh-uh, he was not going to start thinking like that. Sure, Kenny was attractive. Anything with eyes could point that out. But that didn’t mean Craig needed to think of him like _that._ He didn’t need to think about how the boy’s skin was glistening with a thin layer of sweat, or how his lips were slightly parted, or how his pupils might dilate when he realized that Craig was within feet of him.

Craig willed such thoughts away. For all he knew, he could be broadcasting them to Kenny. He felt a shiver pass through his body, the little hairs on his body sticking upright. He rolled his sleeves back down to his wrists.

“What you doing here, Tucker?” Craig could hear the amusement coating Kenny’s question. Craig grimaced and mouthed the word, ‘fuck’.

 

 

Extra, extra! Read all about it! Suddenly, Kenny isn’t the only one working in this relationship!

He didn’t expect Craig to come over to his house, though. That could have waited till a few dates in but Kenny didn’t really mind too much. There was that little hint of doubt that caused his smile to falter as he sensed Craig nearby but the kid had been to his house before even if he hadn't gone inside.

The black haired boy was tense when he turned, looking as if he smelled something horrible.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Kenny rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who came here, remember?”

“I want to talk to you,” Craig blurted out.

Kenny’s head tilted, surprise evident on his face.  “You…do?”

Kenny jumped down from the pile of wooden boards that he was using as a stepping stool and pulled the loose board in the fence open so that he could see Craig a little more clearly.  He noticed Craig’s eyes kept slipping down his bare chest, “See anything you like?”

“Fuck you, McCormick. I want to talk seriously for a goddamn minute.”

Kenny sobered up a bit, his smile slipping from his lips, “Go ahead, Tucker.”

“You went against your word.”

“My word? What word?”

“You harassed Clyde again last night. You told me you’d stop.”

“No, I told you I would tell _Stan_ to stop because you told me you wanted _Stan_ to stop,” Kenny protested, a frown plastered on his face. All this Clyde this and Clyde that. Kenny hated it. He wasn’t _jealous_ of Clyde Donovan because fuck Clyde. He couldn’t be _jealous_. Not of Clyde. He just wanted Craig’s thoughts to be more along the lines of Kenny this and Kenny that.

“I don’t care what I said,” Craig said exasperatedly. “Just leave him alone.”

“He fucking told you,” Kenny muttered frustration evident on his features. “It was Cartman’s idea to kidnap Clyde, we didn’t do nothing to him anyway. He’s fine.”

“You kidnapped him?! What the fuck, Kenny!”

Kenny tried not to notice how well Craig said his name in a tone almost as sweet as Orange Crush. “Oh, uh, I thought you knew?”

“I didn’t know that,” Craig rasped. He looked like he was having a fucking heart attack. “Why would you do that? This isn’t about— “

Kenny scoffed. “Us? No, no it’s not. Not everything is about you, Tucker.”

Correction; most things in Kenny’s life since the art class they shared a year ago revolved around Craig Tucker. He noticed when Craig decided to grow his hair a little longer, when he cut it. He noticed when Craig had gotten his ears pierced and wore matching silver buds in the shape of stars. Kenny could see why people found Craig hard to approach but he saw something deeper than that. A vulnerability that was only shown when Craig was truly surprised. One of these moments was occurring in front of him. Craig’s eyes went wide and he took a step away from Kenny as if he couldn’t help it. One corner of his lip passed underneath his teeth and he worried it as his mind recalculated.

They both went quiet. Kenny was appalled that he even said something as turd-ish and untrue as what he had just said. Hell, it was probably the biggest lie he’d ever told. 

“Hey, Craig—"

“Nah,” Craig waved it off, his eyes drained of the shock they held a second ago, “you’re right. I was stupid to think it. Just leave Clyde alone or I’ll beat you.”

Craig turned away and started off towards the road. Kenny growled under his breath before shouting, “Fuck, Craig, wait up!”

He tried going through the opening created with the wooden plank but he realized that it had been a little while since his late night outings as Mysterion. Kenny was a lot taller and wider than he was when he was ten. He managed to crawl halfway through when his waist got stuck and he decided that it wasn’t worth it. He squeezed himself back into his backyard and took off like a cheetah. He ran through the backdoor, surprising his mom who was talking to his sister.

“Kenny? Where are you going?” Carol called.

“Is something wrong?” Karen asked.

But Kenny ignored them both, running through the living room where Kevin was watching television. He burst out the front door and down the walkway. He skidded to a stop at the sidewalk before finding his target and running towards his back. He jumped Craig Tucker and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

They both groaned.  Kenny had landed directly on Craig’s back since they both fell forward and he was slightly scared that he had broken the boy’s spine or his face or _both_. “Craig, are you okay?”

Craig lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. “Get off, you’re heavy.”

Kenny got off of Craig, sitting on his knees while Craig sat up and faced Kenny. “Was that really necessary, McCormick?”

“Well, you weren’t going to come back and listen to me on your own, were you?”

“No, probably not,” Craig sighed, giving Kenny his short earned victory. “You know that I don’t care that much— “

“But I care,” Kenny insisted. “I do, I care about this a lot. And I know that you’re trying to avoid it, Craig.”

Craig flushed, “I-I’m not a-avoiding anything y-you b-big idiot!”

Kenny laughed. “Sh-Shut up and let me finish!”

Craig shut his trap and Kenny continued, “It doesn’t matter how many times you run away from me, Craig. I’ll hunt you down, dude.”

Craig’s face darkened. “Why are you going this far?”

“I like you, Craig Tucker,” Kenny concluded, taking Craig’s cheeks in his hands and smashing his lips onto the other’s.

The kiss was chaste, lasting no more than two seconds before Kenny was pushed back onto his ass by the most scandalized vision of Craig Tucker Kenny had ever seen. The kiss was more teeth than lips but it had been worth it on Kenny’s part. His heart was beating like it did when he watched Sports Anime at Butters’ house. That shit was intense. 

Craig’s hand was over his lips, his eyes wide as the antique dinner plates Kyle’s mom used when she had guests over. He kept trying to say something but it would come out broken and stuttered. Finally, his breathing started to hitch and Kenny worried Craig was having a panic attack.  He lifted a hand towards the other boy and wasn’t surprised to see it swatted away. Craig got to his feet and ran off in the general direction of town.

Kenny remained where he was, on his ass in the middle of the sidewalk. Suddenly, he heard a voice calling his name. 

“Kenny? What happened?” Karen asked from their front door. Kenny got up, dusted off his knees and his shorts and then jogged back up to the house.

“No worries, Kare-bear, I was just saying bye to a friend.”

Karen narrowed her eyes, a sly smile making its way on her face. “Friends don’t kiss each other goodbye, do they Kenny?”

As he entered the house alongside his sister, he tussled her hair. “Don’t tell mom.”

“Will do,” Karen replied jovially before shutting the door.


	8. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butters feels guilty, Craig and Token drink Scotch, Kenny almost has a good time, and a wild Wendy appears.

As he entered Cartman’s basement, Butters flipped the light switch on.

“Butters.”

“Gah!” Butters cried. He jumped and almost fell down the stairs.

“Butters, it’s me. Get down here,” Cartman ordered and Butters obliged. 

“G-Golly, Eric! You shouldn’t do that! Why were you down here in the dark anyway?”

“What do you think I was doing down here, dumbass? I was _politely_ waiting for you and the gays,” He stated calmly before taking a deep breath and yelling, “YOU’RE THE ONES THAT SHOWED UP LATE!” 

“I-I thought we were meeting outside, that’s what you guys said in your text message!”

“N-No I didn’t!” Cartman objected. “Kyle fucking sent that fucking thing!”

Butters got out his cellphone and approached Cartman to show him the text he’d received from Kyle. Cartman shook his head in annoyance, “God fucking damn that fucking Jew. So help me, one day, Butters. One day, I will kick that Jew in the _tuches._ ”

“I-I don’t know what that means but I’ll take your word for it!”

Suddenly, the basement door opened and Stan and Kyle came downstairs. Butters told Cartman to take a deep breath.

Cartman began in a small, high pitched voice, “Welcome, welcome.”

“I thought we were meeting outside Cartman,” Kyle announced as he saw the duo.

“ _I_ didn’t say that, Kyle. _I_ didn’t want us to meet outside. _I_. Told. You. It. Was. Too. Fucking. Hot!”

A grin broke out on Stan’s face and he nearly started laughing. “O-Oh well, we’re here now.”

Once again, Cartman took an enormous breath and held it in for three seconds before expelling it out of his system. 

“Th-That’s really good, Eric!” Butters encouraged.

“Butters, don’t annoy me,” Cartman retorted viciously. “Where the fuck is Kenny.”

“I didn’t see him on our way here,” Kyle replied. “He might be skipping out this time.”

“If he skipped out, God fucking help him because I will beat his ass. I'm doing all this, out of the kindness of my heart, for that fuckface.”

“You wouldn’t be able to beat anyone’s ass, Cartman,” Stan drawled as he walked over and sat back on Cartman’s couch. Kyle approached his Soulmate and Stan made room for the redhead to sit beside him.

“That’s beside the point,” Cartman growled. He turned his attention to Butters. “Now, as for why we’re here. Butters, give me the documents.”

Butters hesitated, “Uhm, Eric?” 

“What is it?”

“I-I don’t think this is a good idea— “

“Butters,” Cartman said, plopping a thick hand on Butters shoulder. He led the blond closer to the sofa. “You want to hang out with us more often, right?”

“Y-Yeah, but— “

“But nothing Butters, this was our deal. You get us the documents we need and you get to hang out with us.”

“I don’t feel right about this,” Butters replied uncertainly. “It’s divulging information I’m not allowed to even have, Eric. I could be kicked out of the journalism club for this!”

“What’s going on?” Kyle asked as he prodded Stan’s shoulder. Stan didn’t answer but his brows were furrowed in concentration.

“It’ll be fine,” Cartman said steadily and Butters pulled out a thick pack of folded up papers from his pocket.

Just as this exchange was about to occur, the door opened.

Cartman rolled his eyes and snatched the papers from Butters. “Fucking finally Kenny. Jesus, why are you so late?”

Kenny flew down the stairs and grinned cheekily at his friends. “I’m not that late, right?”

“Dude, are you on drugs. You’re like twenty minutes late,” Stan replied frankly.

Kenny caught sight of Butters and his eyes widened incrementally. “Hey, Butters! I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“I invited him,” Cartman interrupted.

“Yeah but what for? No offense, Butters,” Kyle muttered.

“This,” Cartman replied, holding out the papers for Kenny to read. The blond took them and analyzed them carefully.

“Wait, Cartman, this is…”

“What is it?” Kyle said excitedly, jumping up from where he sat and crowding around Kenny to get a glimpse of the documents. Stan watched as his boyfriend’s eyes widened. While Kenny was distracted, Kyle stole the papers from him. “What the fuck did you do, Cartman?”

“ _I_ only asked a favour from my dear ole friend, Butters.”

“This is Craig’s fucking permanent record!” Kyle gasped while skimming over the pages. “If anyone finds out about this, we are so screwed! We could be _expelled!_ ”

“Wait, I wanna see!” Kenny protested, trying to pry the papers away from Kyle.

Suddenly, Kyle’s mouth dropped. Kenny looked over his shoulder at a sheet of Craig’s grades. “Holy Crap.”

“I told you he’s smart,” Kenny drawled happily.

Kyle flipped through another few pages and his jaw fell even further.

Kenny looked and saw his detention record. He admitted, “That is pretty impressive.”

“So,” Cartman said, turning everyone’s attention back to him. “Butters. This means you’re a member of the group. Congrats.”

“What is this all about anyway?” Butters said, his eyebrows squished together. “Why are you guys after Craig?”

“Let me explain,” Cartman replied as he sat the blond down beside Stan.

 

 

Craig narrowly avoided a drunk brawl between Kevin Stoley and David Rodriguez as he entered Token’s kitchen, his cellphone clenched in his hand. He had been texting Clyde frantically, wondering when the guy disappeared in a puff of smoke. Even Jimmy was lost in the chaos of the party. No one, not even Token, was expecting such a big turnout. At least half their high school was at Token’s house and it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

“Craig!” Token called. Craig walked to his friend’s side and Token clapped his hand on Craig’s back. “Shit, man. I think this is the biggest party I’ve ever hosted.”

Craig looked through the serving hatch Token was standing in front of and observed all the party-goers. “We’ve only hosted, like, two parties before, dude. Not a really impressive score.”

 “Yeah but the one we had when my parents went to Tahiti was _much_ better than this one. I thought it would only be us boys,” Token said, swinging his arm over Craig’s shoulder, “you know, playing PS4.” 

Suddenly, there was a smash coming from the living room and Token sighed. “If that’s my mom’s antique vase I am going to fucking kill someone. I put those on a high shelf for a reason.”

He rushed out of the kitchen and started yelling at someone while Craig leaned against Token’s kitchen counter and tried to ignore Daniel Tanner and Annie Knitts making out on the kitchen island. They were starting to get a bit handsy when Craig decided to open the fridge and take out one of the Pabst beers that Kevin Stoley brought to the party. Ever since the kiss with Kenny, he felt like he could be a little hypocritical. He chugged it down quickly.

As he clinked the empty can down against the counter, Token returned with a little brush and a dustpan filled with glass which he proceeded to dump into the garbage bag under the sink.

“What happened to that robot vacuum you guys had?” Craig asked idly, the beer making him feel warm already.

“Oh, the Shark? Yeah, it totally died on us. We had to send it back to the company to get it fixed.” Craig nodded and Token paused to take a sip of his own beer before continuing. “You okay? I know you like to pussy out on my parties usually.”

“Fuck off,” Craig muttered causing Token to snicker. “I need something stronger.”

“Stronger? I mean, my dad’s scotch is in the basement if you want some.”

“Fine,” Craig said.  Token nodded and wandered off in the direction of the party. Craig felt sweaty, like his palms were melting. He rubbed them against his jeans. When Token came back, he was clasping a bottle of Johnnie Walker by the neck and had two red solo cup rims jammed firmly between his teeth. It was the Red Label.

“Is it any good?” Craig asked as Token put the bottle on the counter and let go of the cups.

“I’m not sure, I’m not allowed to drink it usually, but hey,” Token mumbled, undoing the cap, “it’s a party, right?”

Craig watched him pour less than a quarter of the cup for the both of them. Afterwards, Token lifted his glass and urged Craig to do the same.

“Cheers, buddy,” Token said before he leaned his head back and brought the cup to his lips.

Craig took a sip as well but the moment the alcohol hit his tongue, his mouth was on fire. It started stinging in his nose and spread into the recesses of his throat and he wanted to spit it out.  Not wanting to spit the scotch out in front of everyone, he struggled and forced himself to swallow it all in one gulp. Token smacked the counter and made a disgusted sound as he chocked it down. Craig’s face was scrunched up uncontrollably as the alcohol passed through his throat.

“Fuck,” Token rasped, “that was not our best idea.”

“Mm,” Craig hummed. “It was your idea.”

Token took a moment to fully recover from the drink’s effects. He shivered. “I hate this. Never-ever-ever-again.”

“I feel like I-I’m on fire.” That was an understatement. It felt like there were dozens of ants crawling up and down his bare skin. Fire breathing ants.

“We should have another,” Token said and Craig agreed. Token poured another finger and they downed them a little easier. Then, they had one more. Craig giggled when he saw that Token still shivered as the alcohol went down the third time.

“Holy crap,” Craig murmured, placing his palms against the apples of his cheeks.

“We—we gotta talk man,” Token said before he burped and excused himself.

“Wha ‘bout?” Craig asked him dismissively.

“Noooo, no,  ya—ya look like somebody drown’d yer cat.”

“I dun gotta fuckin’ cat, so I don’ think I can look like dat.”

Token flicked his hand and grinned widely. “Tell Dr. Token aaaaaaalllllll yer problems.”

Craig sobered up enough to consider telling Token about Kenny. Out of all his friends, Token was the one who could take a situation and look at it in as neutral a state as possible. “Okaaay. Fine, less say there’s two people—“

“M’alright,” Token answered as he sat down on the kitchen counter. "Sorry, I feel like Imma 'bout to fall o'er."

“Person A and Person B are—uhm—Soulmates. Person A knew waaaaay before Person B, ya know? But Person B found out an’ it kinda sucked but then Person A made it even fuckin’ worse by starting to fuck with Person B’s friends to find out more about Person B and now Person A stole Person B’s first kiss. Tat’s an asshatmove, right?”

Token paused, burped politely into his closed fist, and said, “Go a lil slower, man, ’m kinda confused. So, Person A _fucked_ Person B’s friend? ‘Cause that’s cold-blooded an--.”

Craig’s eyes widened and he laughed uncomfortably. “N-no, nooo, no. that’s not what I said! Ken—I mean, Person A, fucked with Person B’s friend.” 

“—that shit ain’ cool, waiii-t, what’d’ya say?”

“Fucked _with_ Person B’s friend not fucked Person B’s friend.”

“Wha’d’they do that was sobad?” Token asked. He opened a can of beer that was sitting on the counter and took a nice gulp.

“Kidnappedem.”

Token spat out the sip he was drinking and hacked up a lung for a moment. Then, he took another sip to calm his aching throat and waved for Craig to continue. “Yeah, bu, how—how would Person B tell Person A they’re not inerested?”

“So, you--?”

“W-who s-said it was me?” Craig stammered, wide-eyed. “Toadally wasn’t me. I kissed _plendy_ of people, Token.”

“Ahem,” Token cleared his throat to stop Craig’s rambling. “Craig, I love you non-homosexually but yer pathetic, man.”

“No—body. Knows ‘cept Clyde and you,” Craig grumbled. “Actually, Clyde dudn’t even know about the kiss.”

“Ya told Clyde? Shit fuck dumb idea. Clyde’s a blabbermouth. Getim drunk and he snitches about shit that happen’ years ago,” He shook his head condescendingly. After a moment, he had another shit-eating grin on his face. “I knoooow who yeeeerr Soulmate iiiiiiiss.”

“How?”

“Kidnappin’ is pretty extreme. I only know four ashholes willin’ to go that far fora lil fun and since two of’em are in a committed relationship with each other, and tubby gropes Heidi’s boobs whene’er ther within two feet of each other, I’ll bet ten fuckin’ bucks Kinny’s yer Soulmate.”

“Didn’t ya buy that shit about him and Tammy Warner?” Craig mumbled, trying to settle down the dizziness in his brain.

“I knew Tammy wan’t Kenny’s Soulmate. They don’ got the right chem-chem-chemistry. Kenny and Tammy were—uhm. Geez, wus the right analogy to use?" 

Craig clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his friend thought, mimicking the sound of a clock.

“Ionic and Covalent bonds! Kinny and Tammy weran Ionic bond. Kinny was the metal, givin’ up his electrons, and Tammy was the non-metal on the receivin’ end! Was pretty one-sided, if you ask me.”

“I follow.”

“You and Kenny got more to offer each other, a Covalent bond,” Token chuckled.

Craig’s brows were knitted together in confusion. “You lost me.”

“Ya give things to each other, man!” Token tried to explain loudly but sighed. He made a dumb face and pursed his lips,  “Analogies aren’a perfect science, Craig. They’re fuckin’ subjective, dumbass.”

Suddenly, both teens heard the front door fly open and slam against the wall of the foyer. “Cartman’s in da house, bitches!”

“Oh holy fuck, Cartman,” Token yelled. “That foyer was freshly painted—!” He paused and looked back in Craig’s direction. “Gimme a moment, man.”

Token ran out of the kitchen and pushed through the crowds in the adjoining living area. Finally, Craig saw his head slip out into the foyer.  Token’s house was pretty intense and Craig was pretty intimidated by it. Even the entrance was more like a hotel lobby than the entrance of a home. The entrance wasn’t even an ‘entrance’. It was a foyer.

When you entered in the foyer, you were met with pristine white walls and black and white diamond patterned tiles that made your feet clap when you stepped on them. There was also an identical pair of curved staircases that lead up to the second floor. The stairs were pale blue and were accented by intricately designed railings that looked like metal vines with their own little golden leaves, the part of the railing you held was a shiny gold that was polished and cleaned so often that Craig could always see his face in it. The foyer was very spacious, allowing for Token’s parents to furnish the space between the two staircases with a pale blue round couch, two muted brown chairs that each had their own little powder blue cushions and two little white side tables with potted white orchids. If you looked up, you could see the insane chandelier Token’s parents needed to have which could rival the one in _The Phantom of the Opera_.

If you went straight through the foyer, you had to go through two giant glass doors which brought you into the main living area and the living area turned into the kitchen so Craig could’ve seen directly into the foyer from the serving hatch if there weren’t so many bodies in the living area.

Token closed off parts of his family’s mansion when he had parties. Normally, he’d spend the first half-hour of the party greeting his guests in the foyer and leading them straight into the living area. The pair of giant curved staircases and the second floor beyond them were off-limits. Besides, all the doors were locked by Token during the day. The French doors in the kitchen that led out to the back patio were locked unless it was specified early on that it was an outdoor party and you couldn’t use the in ground pool unless it was specified early on that it was an outdoor pool party. Craig hadn’t taken the time to fully explore Token’s house. There were parts he didn’t even know. But he’d been in Token’s room and seen his extensive collection of videogame consoles, rare books, and guitars.

Hearing Cartman’s voice made Craig’s stomach churn. Craig always heard Cartman before he saw him. Cartman wasn’t the tallest out of his ragtag group. That award would probably go to Stan who nearly rivaled Craig’s six-foot-three. Almost. Kenny would be second coming at five foot eleven while Kyle and Cartman were around five foot eight. It didn’t really matter how tall Cartman was, his very presence was a harbinger of bad luck.

It didn’t help that where Cartman went Kenny followed and Craig was not willing to run into Kenny right now.

Drake’s “God’s Plan” started blasting from Token’s sound system and everyone sang along, jumping around in the living room as if it was a club.

_A shitty club,_ Craig thought, clucking again.

That thought was met with a little chuckle and Craig sprang upright, looking over at Annie who was now macking on Daniel’s neck while Daniel was downing a bottle of Corona. Not them.

He grimaced and decided that he was feeling light-headed from the alcohol. He wasn’t the best at holding his own. He wasn’t drunk. Totally not drunk. Just having fun.

So, he approached the French doors, unlocked one, and crept outside. Once there, Craig looked up and watched a light flicker across the night sky. Obviously, a helicopter. Or a plane. Or an alien spaceship. He listened to the sound of the water lapping and went to sit at the edge of Token’s pool.  The edge was made of a rocky tile that was lighter than the same styled tile that was used for the patio. They were both cool to the touch. Craig smirked, slipping off his shoes and feeling the cold tile against his bare feet. Socks were a waste of time, in Craig’s all but humble opinion, so he hardly wore them.  He slipped his feet over the edge of the pool and into the cool water. Then, he leaned back fully so that his whole body felt the tile. He sighed, closing his eyes. A nice breeze passed by, causing goosebumps to spread up his arms.

“Nice night, huh?” Someone asked and Craig nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Jesus Fuck,” He swore, sitting up and holding his head in his palm.

“Sorry,” Kenny replied and Craig swore he could feel the boy’s smile spreading. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Can I come sit with you?”

“If I said no, would ya leave me alone?”

“Probably not,” Kenny said in a singsong voice before coming over and sitting beside Craig, leaving a respectable foot of distance between them. Kenny was smiling like Craig thought.

For a moment, they were silent and Craig proceeded to lie back and pull the brim of his hat down over his chin. Maybe if he convinced Kenny that he was a vegetable, Kenny would leave him alone.

“Would I take your last name if we got married?”

That startled Craig out of his ignorance. Almost shocked him out of his drunken stupor as well. He exposed his eyes again. “Wait—what—“

“Think about it. Kenny Tucker sounds so much better than Craig McCormick,” the blond shook his head at the thought of the second name.

“W-Wha the fuck, McCormick!” Craig exclaimed, sitting up quickly.

“Woah, you sat up so fast you might have whiplash.” Kenny laughed.

“We’re. Not. Gettin’. Married.”

“It was a hypothetical question, Craigory,” Kenny mused. “I know we’re not getting married.”

Craig was growing more and more frustrated. The alcohol also gave him an edge that may have not been there in another situation. His feet slipped out of the water and he sat down crisscross applesauce, turning his body so that he was facing Kenny. Kenny stared at him.

“Sooo, you like me.” Craig said.

“That’s right,” Kenny answered.

“Is it because I’m yer Soulmate?”

Kenny tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“If I wasn’t yer Soulmate, if ya didn’t know. Would ya—still—like me?” Craig asked, over-enunciating the word 'still'.

Kenny considered it. “I’m not exactly sure.”

“I’ve never liked “Soulmates”. Don’ it suck tah not be able to make yer own decisions ‘bout love?”

“Wow, uhm. This conversation is pretty deep to have when you’re obviously drunk,” Kenny admitted with a small sigh. “I think there’d be a lot more heartbreak if Soulmates didn’t exist.”

“Not drunk,” Craig retorted in a small voice. Then, he nodded slowly as Kenny's words registered in the fuzziness. Kenny smiled before picking up the conversation again, “I’m going to tell you a story. When I was younger, like real young. My dad had a job. He lost it later but he had a job at that point. He and my mom were Soulmates; you know? I never really understood it. They fought all the time.

"My dad likes to drink and Mom gives him the reason to do it. She gets all mad, Craig, over nothing and sends him off to drink and when he comes back, he fucking hits her. I’m so used to it. It’s worse when they’re high but they haven’t tried to hurt me, Kevin, or Karen. When I was a kid, I wanted to have my Soulmate. I wanted you. I was so happy one day I’d have one because I knew we’d be different.”

Craig looked at Kenny uncertainly, “Kenny, are you sure— “

“I want you to know,” Kenny concluded. “My parents, even though their relationship is toxic, they still kind of support each other. Like, they encourage each other emotionally. Mom gets mad, dad gets mad. Mom gets sad, dad gets sad. I like _that_. I love that you can change how I feel. You make me feel like everything is okay even though it all sucks.” He took a sip of the Pabst he brought out with him, “Everyone keeps telling me we’re too different for each other. That it’s a surprise or something. I hate that a lot.”

“Why?” Craig asked him.

“It makes me super bummed. Why do we need to be the same to be matched to each other? I know my parents are similar, they’re both ticking time bombs. Kyle and Stan cling to each other like it’s no one’s business. Heidi and Cartman are manipulators. Can’t I be an asshole and you be a weirdo without people telling me it’s not going to work out? They have nothing to do with it. No one else has anything to do with this. This is just you and me. No outside forces. Nothing.”

“Not even God?” Craig mused.

“Fuck God,” Kenny laughed. He took another sip of his beer. “You religious?”

“Used to be.”

“I was raised Catholic, I’m not sure I am though,” Kenny confided. “It’s not like I chose to be baptized or anything.”

Craig nodded in understanding. He sighed, “I’m warm. I think I drank toomuch.”

“Not good at holding your own, Tuck?”

“I don’t drink,” Craig mumbled, staring down at the water beside them. He heard Kenny’s hands splash in the water for a moment before the boy’s cold hands grasped his cheeks and held them. Craig pulled away. “No. You’re fuckin' cold.”

Kenny laughed happily and held him there. “What happened to make you not religious, Tucker?”

“A fight with a Sunday school teacher,” He didn’t mention Jesus or his Mother.

“They suck, they just want you to see things their way,” Kenny said. He let Craig’s face go and pointed up at the sky. “There, do you see that star?” Craig followed Kenny’s finger up to a small star, barely noticeable with the light pollution. “I want to be able to look at the star sometimes and not think that God created it.”

“Why?”

Kenny paused, his hand coming down but his eyes remaining glued to the sky. “Actually, that isn’t a really good example but it’s like the star isn’t as incredible if it’s in the shadow of something bigger, you get me?” 

Craig tried to piece it together in his mind, “I think I know what you’re saying.”

“It’s like, my dad. Okay? He doesn’t work. Hasn’t worked for a while and he always says that God has plans for him, he just hasn’t found them yet. But God hasn’t made my dad unemployed. My dad made my dad unemployed. But dad—dad doesn’t go out or try to get a job. Not because God tells him not to but because _he_ doesn’t want to.”

“Like, our actions are our own,” Craig muttered. Kenny suddenly looked down and turned to Craig. Craig was dumbfounded. In the dimly lit backyard, Kenny looked unreal. His blue eyes glowed and when his smile reached his eyes, they crinkled at the edge. It was as if Craig’s drunk mind dreamt him up. Maybe, he was asleep on Token’s couch right now.

“Exactly. I like to believe that,” Kenny murmured, pushing his bangs out of his face. “To come back to your question, I think I would like you even if you weren’t my Soulmate. My actions are mine, Craig. They aren’t determined by God or whatever is waiting for us in another life. I like you because I like you.”

Craig’s heart nearly stopped. His mouth was dry and there was a part of him that felt like crying. This part begged him to unravel for Kenny and Craig was becoming more and more convinced. He leaned closer to Kenny, their knees touching, close enough that Craig could feel Kenny’s warm breath against his lips. He saw Kenny’s eyes widen incrementally before relaxing.

_Craig, kiss me,_ Kenny thought and Craig was more than happy to oblige.

Suddenly, the patio door opened and Craig sprang away from Kenny. He did so rather clumsily, causing him to slip and fall right into the pool. He was consumed by the quietness of the water for a moment before he swam back up to the surface. He gasped for air and a pair of hands pulled him towards the side.

“Holy fuck, Tucker! Are you okay?” Kenny cried out, distress clear in his voice, he pushed back Craig’s bangs which were hanging over Craig’s eyes.

“’M Alright, I think,” He said before taking a deep breath. Kenny helped him over the edge of the pool and back onto the cold tile. Once he was out of the water, Craig realized he was hatless and turned back towards the clear blue water of Token's pool. Luckily, his hat was at surface level. He grabbed it and wrung out some of the water it soaked up before putting it back over his head. Craig decided he preferred the cold water to the warm alcohol buzzing in his stomach.

Craig saw that Kenny was on his feet the moment Craig was safely out of the water, approaching the person who had opened the French doors. Craig watched him wearily, noticing the way his shoulders were rigid from the back. Kenny wanted to intimidate, Craig could tell and the fact sobered him up immediately. There was a seriousness in Kenny’s posture.

_You could’ve died,_ was all he heard. _What would I do then?_

Craig’s eyes widened when he saw Kenny’s chest pumping. As if Craig’s shortness of breath caused Kenny physical pain. Then the rigidness, the way Kenny’s hands shook by his sides, told Craig that Kenny wasn’t only filled with earnestness. There was fear there too. A fear that shook Craig to his core. This was a Soulmate.

“I’m so sorry, guys! I didn’t think anyone was out here!” Wendy said quickly to Kenny. Wendy watched as Craig got to his feet and put on his shoes. “Are you okay, Craig? Should I ask Token to bring you a towel, oh my god.”

“You aren’t even supposed to be out here, Testaburger. Have you ever been to one of Token’s parties? No patio unless specified early on,” Kenny said coldly.

“What? Of course I’ve been to Token’s parties! I know that!”

“Well then, what makes you think you can come out here then?”

“You were out here too, McCormick!” Wendy snapped.

“Only because I saw Craig, and Craig is— “

Craig started walking, approaching Kenny and Wendy.

“No, it’s okay, Wendy,” Craig said, “I should head out anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Kenny snapped. The blond grabbed him by the arm and held him there. “You aren’t going anywhere. You’re soaked!”

Craig’s eyes narrowed angrily. He pulled his arm out of Kenny’s grasp and walked up to the patio doors. He opened one and stepped in. 

“Craig!” Kenny yelled after him but Craig had slammed the door and was now fighting his way through party goers and trying to find his way back into the foyer. He heard Kenny come in after him and Craig reached up to take off his hat so that he was less recognizable. He nearly tripped over himself once or twice in his haste and caused some people to cuss at him when they noticed he was getting them wet.

In his anxious, tipsy state, he ignored Kenny calling his name.  He brushed through the groups of people converging in Token’s living room and was surprised to bump into someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Red turned to him, her eyes wide as saucers, “Oh, hey.” 

Craig looked at her highlighted cheekbones and licked his lips, completely lost for words.

“You know,” Red said, a scowl on her face, “the polite thing to do is say _hello_.” 

Craig grew up being told not to hit girls. As children, he and Red were both very headstrong and often fought about little things like the remote control or the comfy seat on Skeeter’s couch. Most of the time, these fights would end with Craig hitting Red and Red screaming at the top of her lungs for her daddy to come. Then Craig would be sent to Skeeter’s room since Craig had no room in Skeeter’s house. Instead, Craig slept on Skeeter’s couch whenever his parents’ dropped him off. These time-outs were spent staring at Red’s childhood pictures and pictures of her mom. Craig _wanted_ to hit Red. Wanted to knock that shitty-ass personality out of her. 

All that came to mind were images of Red’s mother, “Hello, Red.”

Craig took this opportunity to keep walking but Red caught his wrist, “Where the hell are you going? The party just started. I’m not going to have people talking about me just because you’re anti-social Especially since I’m going to be staying with you and Uncle Tom for a while.”

Craig’s eyes widened comically. He was flustered by that; why hadn’t he been told? He pulled his arm away and flipped his cousin off. He didn’t get to see her reaction; he could hear Kenny’s voice edging closer in the crowd. The moment he got to the foyer, he ran up the stairs and stopped in front of the door that led to Token’s father’s study. Craig lifted the little welcome mat sitting in front of it. He removed the key hiding under the welcome mat and fumbled to unlock the door in front of him. Once he was in, he locked the door behind him and walked into the study, which was more like a miniature personal library.

He heard a familiar purr and looked over at a side table near one of the shelves of books. Stripe was looking at him through the bars of his cage. Craig suddenly felt bad for leaving the little guy there, in an unfamiliar place. He also felt a pang for dripping water inside Token’s personal library but he sucked it up, walked over, and claimed his guinea pig. Once he was finished, he left the room and locked it up as it was before.

He walked back down the stairs slowly, hoping Kenny wasn’t there. He wasn’t. With that, he ran down the rest of the stairs and fled out Token’s front door. Craig shivered as soon as the wind hit his waterlogged sweater. Stripe cooed from his cage and they set off down the street. Craig turned at Bijou Theater and kept going until he reached Tweak Bros. Coffee.

Craig approached the coffee shop and knocked on the glass door three times. Tweek appeared and let him in. 

“Holy shit, why are you so wet? Wait right there, I just cleaned the floors so you are not going to just drip all over the place,” Tweek said. He ran off to get a towel.

“I fell in Token’s pool,” Craig said and Tweek laughed from the kitchen.

“How did you manage to do that? It wasn't a pool party.” 

“Long story,” Craig responded, putting Stripe down on the floor beside him. Tweek came back and handed him a towel which Craig accepted gratefully.

“How was it?”

“Big, stupid, and totally not my style.”

Tweek smiled. “Great, then it wouldn’t have been my style either.”

“Not at all, Tweekers.”

Once he was more or less dry, Tweek allowed Craig to come into the café. Tweek sat Craig down on one of the bar stools near the front counter while he ran upstairs to get Craig a change of clothes. While Craig waiting, he was struck by an intense feeling of disappointment. It washed over him like the pool water had, infiltrating him. He understood then that it was Kenny and that their connection was getting stronger. 

“Hey…you okay?” Tweek wondered as he approached, a sweater and a pair of pants stuffed under his arm. Craig stiffened.

“Yeah, fine.”

“You know, you can talk to me about anything, right Craig?”

Craig ran a hand through his wet hair, “I told Clyde I would drive back home with him.”

Tweek replied, “Do you want to go back an—“

“No, no. I want to stay here,” Craig pleaded quickly. “Please just let me stay here, just for a second.”

Tweek looked at him, confusion clear on his face. Craig could tell Tweek had tons of questions. Questions Craig wasn’t sure he could answer. “It’s okay, Craig. My parents like you. You can always stay over, we’ll watch Red Racer or Cowboy Bebop, whatever you want. I’ll text Clyde and tell him you’re staying over.”

“Cowboy Bebop is the shit,” Craig said and Tweek laughed loudly.

 

 

As soon as he realized Craig left the party, Kenny turned his sights to loathing Wendy. Currently, she was drinking with Bebe and Heidi and Kenny had half a mind to go over there and scream out all his frustrations in her ear. What was she even doing on the patio anyway? She abandoned her need to go outside as soon as Craig ran back inside.

“Where were you?” He shouted at Stan since Stan couldn’t hear him over the music. “You were supposed to be standing watch!”

“Wendy came over and I felt all weird, like I wanted to throw up so I ran to the bathroom,” Stan said. “I think my body naturally reacts like that now when I see her.”

“Next time, just throw up on her.”

Stan squinted his eyes, “Why? What happened?”

Kenny shook his head and leaned back against the wall behind them. They watched Cartman drift over, dancing as if he was playing invisible maracas. “What’s up guys?”

“I feel like crap,” Kenny replied.

“I don’t think I’m drunk enough,” Stan answered mildly.

“Where’s Kahl?”

“Bathroom,” Stan said. “He’s going to— “

Cartman snorted. “Already? I knew he couldn’t hold his shit!”

“Shut up, Cartman! I was going to get a tissue!” Kyle barked as he returned. Stan handed his boyfriend one of the beers he was holding. “Kenny? Is everything okay?”

Kenny looked at Kyle and Stan, wide eyed, “Wendy Testaburger just blue-balled me.”

Cartman spat out his drink and howled in laughter. “Hahaha! No kidding! That’s fucking gold, Kinny!”

 Out of nowhere, someone piped in, “What’s so funny, Eric?”

Kenny and Kyle turned their sights to Heidi, Cartman’s Soulmate. Her shoulder length brown hair bounced as she swayed lightly to the music.

“What do you want,” Kenny grumbled angrily and Heidi’s lips pursed.

“You don’t have to be a dick,” She reprimanded.

“Babe, babe,” Cartman tittered. “You will not, fucking, believe this.”

“What’s going on?” Heidi asked.

“Don’t you dare, Cartman,” Kyle said. “This is Kenny’s—“

“Wendy Testaburger just blue balled Kenny!”

“—personal shit.”

“Wh—wait, what were you doing to be blue balled anyway?” Heidi asked, rubbing at her mascaraed eyelashes.

“Why do you even care?” Kenny exclaimed hotly, “It’s not like we had sex or anything! Jesus Christ!”

“Ah—Ah—Ah!” Cartman tsked. “Does that mean you were getting to know each other? Hmm? Were you showing him what he was missing?”

“Who are you talking about?” Heidi asked.

“What are you going on about, Cartman?” Kyle demanded, his arms folded over his chest.

Cartman sighed deeply. “He’s doing the plan 2,3,1 not 1,2,3 like I specifically told him!”

“2, 3, what? Eric—” Heidi started.

“But we know his school schedule, his general likes, and stuff, step one is done!” Kyle replied. “Besides, doesn’t this seem too regimented, Cartman? No one’s relationship is based on a stupid plan!”

“He hasn’t infiltrated Craig’s life at all! He needs to know all the odds and ends!”

“What do you mean?” Heidi objected. “Kenny likes Craig?”

“Shut up!” Cartman screeched before pointing his finger straight at Kyle, “you’re putting the plan at risk, assface!”

“Eric, calm down,” Heidi tried to reason with her partner. Her hand was clasped around his and she was slowly pulling him away.

“This is way too complicated, Cartman! It should be something natural!” Kyle retorted. Beside him, Kenny threaded his fingers into his hair and held his skull within his hands.

“I’m getting tired of your backtalk, Jew!”

Heidi guided Cartman further into the throng of people around them but he turned his head back to the group just to shout, “FUCKING TIRED!”

“I need another drink,” Kenny said dejectedly and Stan agreed. His beer had gone flat at some point between almost throwing up on Wendy’s high heels and Heidi approaching them. So, they decided to pass by Token’s kitchen to get some of the vodka Red stole from her father’s stash. Kyle refused to go with them and chose to lean against the wall of Token’s living room. From the kitchen, he looked like a closeted wallflower.

“Fuck,” Stan muttered as they left him there. “They always fight and then I have to leave the party and bring Kyle home. But I wanna stay, you know? I wanna see who gets wrecked first and shit.”

“Kevin Stoley’s pretty wrecked. Then again, I heard Dougie was here and had to be brought home an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean, right? I just don’t want the responsibility.”

“You’re the boyfriend, man,” Kenny replied. “At least you’re one step further than I am.”

Kenny saw Bebe and Wendy chatting at the island. Bebe was pouring some grenadine into a cup of vodka. Wendy went quiet and Bebe looked over her shoulder at Kenny. She shot him a peace sign and a cheeky smile. Stan and Kenny looked at each other for a moment.

Something fishy was going on and these girls were a part of it.


	9. Bruiser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-party consequences, Kyle and Craig take an L, Kenny gets somewhere.

Craig woke up too early. Earlier than Tweek who was still mumbling in his sleep. Earlier than Stripe who had stopped running on his wheel and was lying in a pile of woodchips. Craig ran his hands over his face and grimaced at its sliminess; cold, rubbery, and amphibious. He sat up slowly and accustomed himself to the darkness of the room. 

He was crumpled in Tweek’s bedsheets because Tweek felt weird about letting Craig lie on the bare floor like a vagabond. Tweek claimed the bedspread because he liked the feeling of a weighted blanket while Craig felt suffocated by it. The faint green glow casted from Tweek’s LED alarm clock tinted every surface and every crevice of Tweek’s bedroom, reminding Craig just how fucking wrong he was for drinking the night before; 3:42 A.M. He never slept well after he drank and all he wanted to do was feel the fresh air on his clammy skin. Tweek hated having his window open and Craig felt uncomfortable making his friend uncomfortable in his own bedroom.

He got to his feet, slowly, trying not to discover one of the creaky floorboards littered around Tweek’s bedroom. It was dumb luck that Craig was too lazy to change clothes before he slept. He was still wearing Tweek’s dark green sweatshirt and black sweatpants and in that moment he was thankful that Tweek’s closet was seventy percent soft, cushy loungewear. However, whenever Token threw a party, Clyde forced Tweek to miserably dig through his closet for a suitable pair of jeans while Craig (like the proper, supportive best friend he was) comforted the blond and searched through his dresser

“I will not hang out with you guys if you show up wearing hand-me-downs,” Clyde had stated before one of Token’s past pool parties.

(He didn’t hang out with them at Token’s parties anyways, preferring to attempt to slowly devour his girlfriend whole in one of Token’s guest rooms.) 

Craig’s foot landed on a floorboard and it creaked under his weight. Tweek sat up so quickly that Craig nearly fell backwards in fright. Tweek’s eyes were still shut and his mouth was set in a firm frown, “C-Craig?”

Craig just whispered, “It’s just me, go back to bed.” 

Tweek nodded sleepily, pointed to his side table, and said “take an aspirin before you go” before he leaned back against his pillow. Craig smiled to himself, grabbing the pill and water bottle Tweek had left out for him sometime before they fell asleep. He looked down at Tweek and his springy bed hair fondly before leaving his bedroom.

Craig didn’t remember walking to Tweek’s house after showing up at the coffee shop. Everything after was hazy and came back in pieces that Craig had to determine for himself. He remembered being at the shop, he remembered their first episode of Cowboy Bebop, he remembered Tweek shushing him as they tiptoed up the stairs into his bedroom. He sighed as he walked down their hallway and left through the front door. Tweek, being the paranoid brat he was, left two spare keys outside at all times. One hidden in a potted plant on his porch and the other taped underneath his garbage can. He locked the front door behind him with the potted plant key.

It was dark and still outside and Craig stretched out his arms and inhaled the fresh pine air. He considered his options:

1.Go home and face Red.

2.Go to Clyde’s and listen to him complain about Bebe until they left for school.

3.Find a dry place where he could lie down.

Craig quickly went towards the third option, taking off in the direction of Stark’s Pond. As he walked, he pulled his cellphone out of the right pocket in Tweek’s sweatpants and noticed seven notifications. One was a text from Clyde stating that he had gotten into another fight with Bebe (he also received Tweek’s text about not driving Craig home), another was a mass message from Kevin Stoley stating that whoever tried to roofie his sister could eat his ass. The next five notifications came from his Facebook Messenger App. More specifically, the messages came from Kenny McCormick.

_Hey_

_Uh, I was just hoping you got to Tweek’s alright._

_Let me know_

_11:35 p.m._

_Cartman’s acting like a dick so Kyle left and brought Stan with him._

_So I’m stuck having to listen to his bullshit AND I have to play the third wheel to fucking Heidi._

_Bradley Biggle was dared to roofie Esther Stoley. I’m not sure if he did it_

_Are you there?_

_11:40 p.m._

_Somebody stuck a wad of gum in Dougie O’Connell’s hair._

_He called his mom crying and had to be picked up._

_Lola and Beth started making out but everybody knows they’ve been having sex since the seventh grade._

_I hate this._

_11:50 p.m._

_Usually there’s something interesting happening at these parties._

_But besides a few kids running down the block naked and Token kicking out two guys for peeing in his pool, I can’t think of anything good._

_You should be here_

_12:04 a.m._

_Earlier, when you left, I was chasing after the wrong kid wearing a blue and yellow hat._

_I should have noticed it didn’t have a puff ball._

_It’s all my fault_

_12:19 a.m._

_i feel stupid._

_12: 28 a.m._

_Let me know_

_Are you there?_

_I hate this._

_You should be here._

_It’s all my fault_

_i feel stupid._

 

An unspoken question climbed up Craig’s body, _why did you leave?_ It settled on his shoulders until Craig shook it off with a shiver. He typed a quick ‘ _I’m fine’_ into the chat knowing it wouldn’t answer any of Kenny’s questions. It wasn’t meant to answer questions. Craig wasn’t confrontational (as much as his detention rep. claimed him to be otherwise) especially when it came to sticky situations like _soulmates_ or _emotions_. Even when he said either of those words in his head, he wanted to cringe and chew on a tide pod.

Screw it. If he was going to be emotionally stunted, the one person he could do it with should be the one he’s supposed to spend his life with.

 

 

Kyle grimaced as Kenny silently stuffed his face with the cheesy poofs Kyle had lovingly packed into his own lunch box. The blond was grumbling something incoherent, grinding the little wonderful balls of cheesy goodness into dust.

“A penny for your thoughts…?” He asked him and Kenny shot him a glare. “Guess not?” 

“Oh, don’t mind him, Kahl,” Cartman snorted after he said this. “Kinny’s just upset he didn’t get laid last night.”

Kenny’s eye twitched but otherwise he remained perfectly calm and composed as he shovelled another handful of poofs past his lips.

Cartman rolled his eyes, “Laaame. I thought he’d react or something.”

Stan was awfully quiet too, Kyle noticed. He looked over at his boyfriend and saw that he was looking out the window, watching the houses whizz by until the bus stopped to pick up more people. Stan was usually a hand-holder but today his hand remained glued to the top of his thigh. Maybe he could try to—

No, Kyle shook his head stubbornly. He’d wait for Stan to come talk to him. They had come far enough in their relationship to share what was going on in their minds. Normally, Stan would open up their connection if he wanted to talk to Kyle privately but it felt as if there was a wall between them. Kyle couldn’t hear anything if he wanted to.

He sighed deeply and scratched the side of his nose before turning to Kenny again. At least the blond was responsive. “So how was the party after we left?”

“Boring.”

“You guys missed so much shit,” Cartman countered with a raspy laugh. “Token was so fucking drunk—oh, OH! —you should’ve seen the tits on some of the girls who walked into that house and—”

“Eric,” Heidi spoke up from where she sat behind Cartman, “I hope you’re talking about my boobs and not some tramp’s.”

“Mhm, that’s great babe. We talked about that possessive bullshit, didn’t we? Right? So stop fucking squeezing my balls!” Cartman shouted before turning to look at Kyle with a lewd smile on his face and mouthing ‘Big. Fucking. Tits.’

The bus lurched forward and stopped. Kenny looked up quickly and Kyle understood his reasoning when he saw that they were at Craig’s bus stop. Kyle didn’t know what happened at the party, Kenny was too pissed to talk about it in front of Cartman. Bebe was seated next to Wendy when Clyde got on the bus, forcing Clyde to go sit in the back. Craig wasn't with him.

“Guess there’s someone else in the no-bone-zone, Kin,” Cartman commented with a wheeze.

“You’re still an asshole, Cartman,” Clyde replied blandly.

Kenny clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “You’re a fuckin’ shitface, Cartman.”

“No one cares, Clyde! And suck my balls, Kinnith. Oh, wait. You’ve got Craig’s balls for that. Oh, wait. You don’t even have Craig’s balls!”

“Shut the fuck up—!” Kyle started but was interrupted by Kenny grabbing his bag and running off the bus, “Hey! Where are you going?”

Kenny was running down the sidewalk by the time Kyle grabbed the tabs on the school bus window and dragged the window down, “Kenny! What the hell!”

Cartman scoffed, “Knew he was a loser.”

The bus driver looked at the open door in a confused stupor before he snapped out of it and closed the door.

“Guys, shouldn’t we go after him?” Stan asked.

“No, why should we go after him? _He’s_ the one being an asslicker,” Cartman reminded as the bus started moving. “I have shit to discuss with Butters today for _his_ stupid plan. You go after him.”

“Kyle?”

Kyle’s brow furrowed, his mouth pressed in a thin line. “Stan, I have a really important science test today that I can’t miss. If I go after Kenny, he’ll—“

“I should’ve guessed,” Stan interrupted, grabbing his backpack from where it sat at his feet and pushing past Kyle’s legs to escape the confines of the bus bench. “Thought you cared about your friends." 

Kyle blinked owlishly, his mouth slightly parted. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this situation. In his defence, he and Stan hardly fought. (Could this be considered a fight?) When they did, they had a tendency to be loud and straightforward about their grievances. (Well, Kyle was. Stan usually on the receiving end of their petty arguments.) This, this was different.  

Had Kyle conducted himself differently? No.

Did he say something that could set Stan off? Possibly.

But he couldn’t think of anything. Before long the bus halted. Kyle thought he could hear Stan’s sneakers belting down the sidewalk while Cartman laughed boisterously. 

“That’s an enormous ‘L’ for you, Kahl,” Cartman admitted once he’d settled down and the bus neared the school. He had that “Hey I just fucked your wife!” smile on his face when he said it and Kyle just went with it. He’d had enough of being bounced around today. 

 

 

Kenny could admit when he’d lost. He’d been in too many fights to count on his fingers and he could tell when he’d gotten too lost in the sauce. When he was too cocky and he’d get pulled into a fight he couldn’t win. When Cartman took up boxing, he started teaching Kenny moves.

 

 

They were sitting in his living room when they were fourteen. Kenny sat there with a split lip and a shiner while Cartman drank Mountain Dew.

“Man, you gotta learn how to fight. You fight like a chick.”

“Shut up dude.”

“No, I mean it. I can’t hang out with someone who gets their ass busted open all the time. The next time you smoke someone, it better be three hits: you hitting them, their ass hitting the floor, and the shit hitting their shorts.”

Kenny snorted in amusement and hissed when his lip stung.

“Stand up and put your hands on my shoulders,” Cartman ordered as he got up from the couch and pushed the coffee table out of the way.

Kenny did.

Cartman whipped his arms over Kenny’s and slapped them around his back. Then, he pulled up, causing Kenny to fall forward and get kneed in the gut.

Kenny hit the ground with a thud as Cartman laughed. “Dude, you gotta block it.”

“Fuck you,” Kenny rasped as he struggled to sit up. He rested on his bent knees. Kenny guessed Cartman could tell he was mad because he sat down on the couch again and stared him in the eye.

“You gotta block it and if you’re ever in a fight you can’t win and you’ll know when you can’t win it—”Cartman paused and scratched his shoulder blade. “—d’ya know what to do?” 

“Get the fuck out?”

Cartman smirked. “Nah. You’re in this world now, Kin, with that eye. And you went and got it at school too. Everyone’ll know by tomorrow and if they haven’t heard, they’ll see your beat up face and know that you’re game. Now, anyone itching for a fight might grab you. So, you know what you do? You lie down and take it.”

“The fuck man?” Kenny growled.

“You fucking take it. If you know you can’t win, you go down when they hit you and you duck your head. It’s like an instant surrender. If they’re sober, they’ll probably stop hitting you. If they’re high, they’ll keep hitting you but they’ll stop if you act like you’re dead for long enough. If they’re drunk, you keep holding yourself there and taking it until someone fucking pulls them away.” Cartman scowled. “Drunks are the worst.”

Kenny knew that to be true.

 

 

There were points when Kenny wanted to sucker punch Cartman and leave it at that but he remembered the moment Cartman’s knee hit him like a freight train. It was the first time he’d actually lost the air in his lungs and Cartman was no Rocky. Cartman had fat fingers, scarred knuckles, and thick forearms that rippled when his fist made contact with someone’s skull. It was one of those fights he knew he wouldn’t win. 

The only thing that was rumored to be fat now that his ass had slimmed down was what Powder Turner termed Cartman’s horse cock but Powder heard that from another source. When Powder told him, she pushed her ruddy hair over her shoulder and leaned in real close. Close enough that Kenny could see down her shirt since she was shorter than him, “I hear, when Cartman wears those gray sweatpants, you can see it jiggle against his thigh.” 

Cartman wore those sweats often and Kenny was ashamed to say that he looked every time. As Kenny reached the edge of Stark’s Pond, trekking through the mud with nearly soaked sneakers he prayed. “Fuck, Cartman, get your skull crushed, get that horse cock of yours kicked inwards. Bleed for a day, man, fucking bleed.”

“You heard that rumor too?” Someone asked and Kenny turned on his heels. Craig was sitting in the branches of a low tree. It seemed to cradle his body in its arms. He had nothing with him. Just him, in a tree, his bangs hanging over his face. He jumped off from the tree. “I never believed it.”

Kenny gritted his teeth. “I’m fine, huh?”

Craig’s shoulders twitched involuntarily and that was all the motivation Kenny needed before his anger leaped over the edge. His fist blurred its way into Craig’s face so quickly Craig’s head snapped back. They were both shocked. Craig made an ‘oh’ sound and stepped back in recoil and Kenny’s eyes got big when Craig’s bleeding started. Not a trickle-trickle—more like a faucet of blood from his nose, spilling down his shirt, his sweatpants, all over his converse.

After a moment of silence, he snorted and spat up more blood in the grass beside him. He approached quickly and Kenny made to push him down but Craig caught him by the arms and pulled him close, right into the crook of his elbow before he pushed him down. Before Kenny could react, Craig sat on top of him, landing full on Kenny’s chest and knocking the air out of him. Kenny huffed and he could feel his ribs being crushed. Craig’s long fingers were wrapped around Kenny’s wrists and he wondered if there would be bruises. He pulled them both up over Kenny's head and held them there in one hand as he pulled his closed fist back behind his skull.

Craig was going to bring that beautiful war hammer down and bust open his jaw. He knew it. But Craig didn’t. He just sat there, looking at Kenny as his blood dripped down onto Kenny’s cheek. Kenny could feel the mud seeping into his clothes. Craig lowered his arm, wiped his hand across his face, and dropped the hand down to smear more blood onto Kenny’s cheek.

“You looked scared there, for a second,” Craig droned. His grey eyes were piercing. Kenny looked away.

 Craig got up. He didn’t offer Kenny any help. He just got up and used his sleeve to soap up some more blood running down his chin. Kenny sat up weakly.  “Why didn’t you hit me?” 

“I deserved it,” Craig responded. “Don’t think I won’t get you back when you’re being an asshole.” 

Craig watched as Kenny lifted himself up. “You look like shit, McCormick.”

“You’re not so pretty yourself.” Kenny retorted.

“Come on.” 

That was enough incentive to get Kenny to grab his forgotten backpack and follow Craig out of Stark’s Pond and into the streets of South Park. Kenny could guess what an image the two of them made: standing side by side, covered in mud and blood with their shoes squelching as they hit the sidewalk. 

“Never do that to me again,” Kenny murmured as they went and he couldn’t help but think about how stupidly weak it sounded when he wanted to be threatening. 

Craig’s eyes skimmed over him and Kenny watched them in his peripheral. “Okay.”


	10. Let's get Romantic...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy is bi-curious, Stan hates being a stalker, Kenny has a confession, and Craig has an...interesting time in English class.

On school mornings when the sun was out and Bebe wasn’t blowing up her phone, Wendy walked to school or took her bike. It was getting warmer in South Park and Wendy was afraid that she hadn’t lost the weight she’d gained over the holidays. She weighed herself every few days during the spring and was always happy to see that her trials weren’t for nothing. She’d lose a little bit of weight at a steady rate that wouldn’t scare her parents who claimed that she was a health freak.

Wendy rolled her eyes at the thought as she neared the school entrance on her purple retro cruiser bike. She needed to look her best to maintain her expectations of herself. It was her thing. Call it OCD or whatever you want but Wendy could not go outside if she had not washed her hair or put on deodorant. Bebe always called labeled it Wendy’s perfectionism. Bebe was similar to Wendy in that she cared about appearances but Wendy had interior expectations to maintain while Bebe had exterior ones. Bebe was always Instagram ready; highlight, contour, the whole shebang. Ready to post snapchat stories in class to Clyde or Heidi. Wendy just need enough foundation to make herself feel better.

It came as a surprise to Wendy that Bebe hadn’t kept in touch or tried to pick her up on her way to school. All Bebe could talk about was fucking around with Cartman. No wonder Clyde had distanced himself from the two. Since the whole kidnapping ordeal, Clyde hardly texted his girlfriend and didn’t respond to all of her calls. His excuses were ‘sorry was taking a shit’ or ‘sorry gotta play overwatch’.

Wendy sighed at the thought while locking her bike into the bike rack. The boys in her grade were all unromantic monsters that still partook in racist, homophobic bickering and immature fart jokes. And Bebe wondered why she still hadn’t found a boyfriend. Every relationship that Wendy built with a boy was odd, forced, and never fully reciprocated. Her best friend tried to set her up on blind dates but each of them failed.

“They weren’t up to my standards,” Wendy commented after each. “We didn’t have much to talk about.”

Wendy liked to consider herself a try-er. She was always keen to learn about new things. Once, she had an interesting conversation with the Mormons who visited homes in her neighbourhood to preach and they still continued to give her pamphlets when she was home.

But Wendy was pretty sure she’d never become a Mormon or have a boyfriend. The simplest reason being that she’d found herself becoming more bi-curious than usual. Her interest began after she stumbled upon an anime called ‘Citrus’ while going through her recommended feed on YouTube. Then came ‘Sakura Trick’, ‘Strawberry Panic’, and so on until she fell headfirst down a rabbit hole of Yuri anime. At first, the desire ended after she watched an episode and Wendy was able to return to her normal life.

That was until Wendy saw Rebecca Tucker at Token’s party.

Red was always a pretty girl, especially in grade school. Most argued that she was even prettier than Bebe and Wendy with her long red hair, light dusting of freckles, and abundance of eyelashes. But Red had undergone a slight personality shift at the end of their grade school years. She became more aggressive and irritated especially with how Bebe led their posse. Because Bebe and Red became enemies, Wendy had less contact with Red.

Wendy didn’t even know that Red had gone to live with her grandma and attend a high school in Denver. They were friends on Facebook and followed each other on Twitter but Red rarely went on her social media platforms. So, when Wendy saw Red at the party with her pretty lip piercing, nose bud, and short bob cut, Wendy’s brain short-circuited.

“Been a long time, Wendy,” Red shouted above the music. Her bangs bounced as she spoke.

Wendy’s mouth gaped slightly but she gave her shortness of breath the excuse that she was running after Craig and Kenny. “Hey…wow, it’s been a while.”

“Do you even recognize me?” She said with a large smile.

“Of course I do, Red.” Wendy replied somewhat self-consciously. Red had never looked better. She was in a bright orange turtleneck tucked into a black pleated skirt that threatened to give her a complex. She was also wearing some cute black tights that ended at her knees that Wendy never envisioned on herself but loved on Red.

“Good, I thought you thought I was some stalker or something.” Red twired a hair over her right ear. “I’m going to get another drink though. We should hang out while I’m in town. I’m staying over at Craig’s place ‘cus Dad’s place is a little small right now.”

“He’s still looking for an apartment?” Wendy asked. Red rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well. Sometimes my definition of ‘looking’ isn’t his. Besides, soon I’ll be going to college so I’ll be living off at a dorm somewhere. So he wasn’t really ‘looking’. I think he expects me to stay with Grandma until I can make it on my own.”

“Geez, that sucks, Red,” Wendy replied regretfully.

“Damn, don’t look so down, Testaburger. It’s fine. I’d rather be in Denver than this dump. No shade but South Park can suck a dick. Once you’re outta town, the world suddenly becomes such a big place.” Red laughed and then added, “No but, seriously, we should hang.”

Suddenly, an idea seemed to flash in Red’s mind. She took a paper out of the purse she was wearing and wrote something down. “I’m leaving after this drink so don’t look for me but here’s my number. Text me when you’re off school or something.”

Red waved as she walked off leaving Wendy to stare at the little stub of paper until she finally went to find Bebe.

What Wendy remembered of her dreams when she got to bed that night were romantic shoujo anime scenarios featuring herself and Red. Over the last few hours, Wendy couldn’t think straight without hearing Red’s voice in her ears. Or her laugh. She sighed and considered the weight of her small crush on Red.

“Now I have to keep this from Bebe and seduce Craig,” She ran her fingers through her black hair. “Jesus, Wendy, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Wendy Testaburger.” Someone said behind her causing her to jump.

Wendy screamed and turned around to face her offender. Bebe laughed loudly. “Omg, that was hilarious!”

“Why would you do that?” Wendy rasped hopelessly.

“Because you were talking to yourself and I was worried about you like the best friend that I am.” Bebe threw her arms around Wendy and hugged her. “I gotta talk to you. Like on the low-low.”

Wendy smiled as her friend pulled away. “Okay, what is it?”

Bebe pouted. “I think Butters was convinced by Cartman and Kenny to join them.”

Wendy lifted her eyebrow, “What makes you think that?”

Bebe handed Wendy a packet of papers that were neatly stapled together. Wendy looked through it superficially. “A questionnaire?”

“Look who it’s about.” Bebe tsked.

Wendy read the subject line, “‘How the female student body feels about Craig Tucker.’ Isn’t that a little too on the nose? And why didn't I get one?”

“This is Butters we’re talking about Wen! Butters doesn’t know anything about being secretive or evil! He’s like a little bunny!”

“But why would they ask Butters to join?”

Bebe shrugged. “Beats me. The only thing for me is that he’s a part of the journalism club.”

“Holy crap, Bebe!” Wendy screeched. “They’re going to use Butters’ position on the paper in their plan for sure!" 

“How do we even stop that?”

“Lola and Nichole are also in the journalism club,” Wendy stated and Bebe wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Bebe, it’s time to mend some bridges.”

 

  

Stan felt weird about stalking. He’d had a stalker once, a freshman that started following him after his first practice as an official member of the football team and not just a bench warmer. She was nice about it, kept five feet between them at all times, never walked into a bathroom with him, and never pushed the boundaries of their non-verbally agreed contract. Stan grew to consider her more of a groupie or slightly more-than-average fan. Stan wasn’t sure when she had faded into the back of his mind or when he had dissuaded her from following him. One day she was there and the next, gone.

He never considered it creepy until Kenny mentioned that a woman followed him home after he convinced her to perform a striptease in front of the entire AV club. She was a fixture in his life for an entire weekend, following him past the train tracks on his way home and watching him from across the street. The blond claimed it was just a joke that didn’t mean anything but the thirty-year-old was certainly pissed. She was so pissed that she pulled a knife on him when Kenny tried to catch her on film.

“She pulled a knife out of her pocket and started running towards me,” Kenny giggled, his eyes blown wide as he recounted the ordeal. “She looked like a fucking crazy person. But I got home and barricaded the front door just in time for her to beat it. No woman can properly run in stilettos.” 

Butters shivered. He popped a sweet watermelon candy into his mouth and chewed on the gummy for a few seconds before replying, “Gosh, were you scared? I would’ve peed myself.”

“He’s lying to you, Butters,” Stan said dismissively.

Kenny booed then said, “You never trust me, Stanley. It did happen though.”

“That’s because I know you better than that. It’s not the full story and you know it.”

Kenny shrugged, “okay, I might’ve forgotten to pay her.”

“Forgotten? How much money did you owe her?”

“I’d say a good—two hundred dollars, maybe.”

Butters gasped. “Kenny! That’s a ton of money!”

“Which is why I didn’t pay it, dear Butters,” Kenny replied nonchalantly before turning his gaze back to Stan. “Besides, Stanley, she was the stupid one for not asking for at least half the payment upfront. Added bonus, her boobs didn’t even look that good with pasties.”

Kenny’s story got Stan thinking and when Stan started thinking, he started overthinking. His fangirl was the victim of this overthinking. Suddenly, her actions (which could be construed as the innocent, shy fumbling of a younger girl who was interested in Stan) gained a devious connotation.

How often did Stan smile at the girl on his commute to school? How often did he see her stick post-it notes with smiley faces on his locker? Did she ever follow him home from school? Would she pull a knife on him? Where was she now?

These thoughts caused Stan to look over his shoulder more than he cared to admit.  He felt the same gross discomfort when he followed Kenny and Craig out of Stark’s pond with a toothpick between his lips. The two soulmates were unnervingly quiet, staring straight ahead. Stan assumed that the silence was filled with the awkward realization that Kenny had punched Craig in the nose. Stan couldn’t see if the swelling had increased.

Kenny looked at Craig for a moment. He opened his mouth and said something that Stan couldn’t hear. Stan amused himself by plugging in his own dialogue. “Craig, you’re a fucking ass and you have pimples on your forehead. God, you’re so gross.”

Right at that moment, Craig looked over. He replied and Clyde dubbed it as, “I like fast food but it makes me break out and gives me gas. Speaking of which— “

Stan blew a raspberry into his palm and he saw Kenny titter, Stan chimed in, “Why am I so attracted to your farts? I’m getting so turned on.”

“Here comes another one!” An especially wet raspberry.

“Fart harder; Jesus, HARDER.” Stan moaned and burst into a fit of giggles. His giggling stopped abruptly when he realized which direction they were taking. He groaned. “Fuck me. Kenny couldn’t you be a little more spontaneous? Damn.”

Why would they go to _school_? Were they that fucking boring? Their clothes were stained, Craig’s blood was still spotting the sidewalk, and Craig didn’t have a single textbook or notebook on his person. It didn’t seem like a good idea. And Stan wasn’t being biased.

Not at all.

But he admitted to himself that he could go a few more hours without seeing Kyle. He knew he had to face the red head at some point but that point was far off in the deepest corners of Stan’s mind, somewhere in the not-too-near future along with thoughts of Stan being a father, getting married, or getting a job. At this point, all four thoughts were hazy and uncertain.

He kicked a piece of asphalt of the sidewalk and into the street where an incoming car ran over it quickly. Craig and Kenny stopped at the corner and Stan chose to huddle close to a restaurant entrance in order to not get caught.

“Are you sure you ain’t gonna need anythin’ for class?” Kenny asked him. Craig shrugged.

“I’ll be fine,” He stated. “It really isn’t that difficult to find a pencil and a piece of paper. Tweek has fifteen backup notebooks in his locker alone.”

Stan rolled his eyes and tutted, “That’s a little excessive.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Kenny sighed. “God, your fucking nose looks wrecked.”

“Can’t leave it alone, can you.”

“But look at it, it’s already starting to look black and green!”

“Oh well.”

“That’s it?”

“What? Do you want me to be mad at you or something? Do you need me to punch you back?”

 Kenny looked like he wanted to throw Craig off a bridge, his eyes brimming with annoyance, “I fucking punched you in the nose and your blood is literally all over me. I look like I was at a crime scene, Tucker!”

“What do you want me to say? I deserved it. Let it go.”

Kenny continued walking and Craig followed. Stan scurried behind them. “I’m sorry. For hitting you, I mean. I’m sorry.”

“You—“ 

“I know you deserved it and shit but I still kinda feel kinda shitty so shut up and accept my apology Tucker, dammit,” Kenny grumbled.

Craig chuckled warmly. “Yeah, whatever. I accept your apology. 

Stan considered them both idiots.

When Kenny first told Stan that he was Craig’s soulmate, Stan saw the possibility of it. Unlike Kyle who questioned the relationship’s legitimacy, Stan saw that the two were just idiotic enough to be perfect together. Crack pairings were Kenny’s thing, after all.

Stan decided to make his presence known. Because fuck it, if they were going back to school, he didn’t want to go back and make it seem like he was stalking them this entire time.

“Kenny!” He called up to them, watching as Kenny looked over his shoulder and looked shocked to see him. Stan ran up to the pair.

“Stan? What the hell are you doing here?” Kenny asked.

Stan swallowed, “I, uhh, I followed you off the bus. You were looking kind of pathetic.”

Kenny gasped in shock. “You wanted to help me.”

“No.”

“Admit it. You like me, Staniel.”

Stan rolled his eyes and acknowledged Craig with a brief nod of his head, “Tucker.”

“Marsh,” the stoic replied.

“The fuck happened to you?”

The pair looked at each other for a moment before Craig said “I fell” while Kenny replied “Park swings”.

“I fell off the park swings,” Craig responded just as easily and Stan tried not to let his amusement show.

“And broke your— “

“You gonna come back to class with us?” Kenny interrupted, a playful but nervous smile on his lips. “Craig has to see the nurse and I can’t miss too many more classes or else I’ll flunk out.”

“Sure, I guess. What made you run off the bus this morning anyway? Cartman was just being himself, you know that, right?”

Craig looked over at Kenny curiously. Kenny responded, “Yeah, I know. He’s just always on my case ever since we recruited him.”

“Recruited?” Craig mumbled and Kenny stilled. “Do I want to know?”

"Nah, it has nothing to do with you,” Stan replied. Even though it had everything to do with him. Then, Stan had a brilliant idea. “Also, Tucker, I wanted to know something.”

Craig looked uneasy, “Shoot.”

“Okay, you know Kyle right?”

“Yeah?” Craig asked, confusion clear on his face. Even Kenny looked at Stan oddly.

“So, Kyle and I, our anniversary is coming up and I was wondering if you had any ideas what I should do about it.”

“You know, I’m probably not the one you should be asking about this,” Craig replied. He was right. Craig was probably as romantic as a sack of potatoes but Stan only wanted to know what Craig’s definition of romance was. This information could be what cracked Cartman and forced them forward in their plan.

“No, no, I just need opinions. I asked Kenny too, right Ken?”

“Oh yeah, he totally asked me,” Lies.

They were nearing the school building, all old pale yellow bricks and dingy windows. The trees around were few and far between and there were more mud piles than grassy patches. Craig stopped in a mud pile and grunted. “I dunno. Like, do something big or something? People like big displays of affection, right?”

“Big?” Stan replied curiously. Maybe Craig was more like Kenny than he thought.

“Yeah, like, I dunno,” Craig stumbled through his thoughts and rubbed his hands against his pants. He rubbed his sleeve across his face and sighed. “Kyle would like that probably.”

 

 

“It means nothing,” Kenny mumbled when they separated. Craig went straight for the nurse’s office while they went to the lockers.

“It means everything, Kenny,” Stan replied with a smirk. “We were wrong; Craig does like PDA. That works out for you, doesn’t it?”

 Kenny considered this for a moment, “Well, yes, BUT! But, what if he was just playing along or something?” 

“It isn’t like you to overthink,” Stan commented sagely.

“It isn’t like me to think at all!” Kenny laughed. “This has seriously made me consider everything.”

“Not punching him in the face obviously.”

Kenny stilled. “How did you— “

“The look on your faces, the blood all over your clothes, the mud. You either had a fight, had some really rough sex, or were learning how to wrestle,” Stan said. It seemed to convince Kenny.

Kenny snorted and Stan continued, “Plus your knuckles are just as rough as his face.”

Stan steered Kenny towards the bathroom to wash his face and hands at the sinks.

“We still have to ask Butters about his questionnaire.”

“I can’t believe he did a questionnaire,” Kenny tittered as he washed off. “He’s so cute. He never thinks in a bad way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Butters is too nice. But it’s refreshing, you know? Cartman and I, we’re kinda fucked but Butters handed out a questionnaire to all the girls in our grade to get information on Craig. It’s just so—so _Butters_ , you know?”

“He is part of the journalism club. He has his ‘journalistic integrity’ to maintain.”

The bell that signaled the end of first period rang and soon, students began filling the hallways. Kenny and Stan waited for Butters to appear. On Mondays, Butters made sure to meet up with Kenny before math class. The class Kenny hated most.

“I’m going to head off, good luck with your PDA plan,” Stan chuckled as he saw Butters come into view.

“Yep, dead man walking.” Kenny muttered, making his way to Butters’ locker. The blond was searching for his textbook in the top cubby of the locker. “Hey Butters, how’s life?”

Butters took out his textbook and shut the locker before shooting Kenny his poutiest look. “Where have you been? I was beginning to thin— Oh god, is that blood?”

“It’s not mine?” Kenny attempted, a shameful smile creeping onto his face. “Honestly, Butters, it’s no biggie.”

“Did you get in a fight, Ken?”

“Nope, just an itsy bitsy disagreement.”

Butters huffed in annoyance but his eyes stared fondly at Kenny, “Geez, you have to consider your health too, Kenny." 

“Health is overrated. Let’s get to math before I get marked as absent.”

Their math teacher wore nothing but flannel shirts and slacks and Kenny was certain that some of the goth kids in the back snored during class. Unfortunately, he and Butters sat in the third row since the teacher hated Kenny with a passion and needed to see him as close to the front as humanly possible. Kenny drew his personal line at the third row.

“I hate Mondays,” Kenny said as he slumped into an orange plastic chair.

“Mondays are pretty sucky,” Butters said, taking a packet of paper out of his binder. “You have to wake up and stuff. I never want to wake up on Mondays.”

“We should just eradicate Mondays and go straight into Tuesdays.”

Butters shook his head, “Then, we’d hate Tuesdays.”

Kenny yawned. “That’s true, pal. Oh, Stan reminded me about your questionnaire— “

“Turns out, the girls think Craig is the hottest guy in our year. They said it could’ve been Clyde or Stan, but Clyde’s marked by Bebe and Stan’s gay so the girls think it’s kinda weird to go after them,” Butters said, reading off the paper in front of them. “According to the Goth girls, Craig is “meh”. He seems to have built up a reputation for himself with the Asian girls. They still draw tons of pictures of him— “

“And Tweek,” Kenny interrupted.

“—and Tweek—oh, oh! Are we doing that silly thing where we finish each other’s sentences?” Butters asked. Then he smirked playfully. “Oh. Oh, I see.”

“What?”

Butters nudged him. “You’re jealous of Tweek Tweak.”

Kenny puffed out his cheeks. “What? I’m not jealous of anyone! First there’s Craig saying I’m jealous of Clyde and now you and Tweek!”

Butters laughed. “I was just teasing you, Kenny.”

Then, a thought entered Kenny’s mind. “Butters, did you end up finding out if Craig and Tweek are still dating? I mean, does anyone know if they actually broke up?”

“Uhm,” Butters hummed, taking a moment to look through his papers. “Actually, no. There’s no information on it but I didn’t really question it either. But I know for a fact that they dated in the fourth grade.”

“What if they’re still dating,” Kenny stated.

“Still dating? But Craig is your Soulmate,” Butters insisted. “Anyone who dates someone else’s Soulmate is kind of mean. And Tweek isn’t _mean._ He’d probably stop dating him if he knew. Wait, does he even know?”

The thought made Kenny’s blood boil. Could that be the reason why Craig was so antsy around him? Because he had feelings for Tweek? But Craig almost kissed him, didn’t he? Craig looked at Kenny’s chest when he was in his backyard. But Craig ran away when they first kissed and he reacted horribly when Kenny flirted with him.

Kenny held his head in his hands, disrupting his hair. Butters cut in, “Aw Gee Whiz Kenny, I’m sure that’s not what’s going on.”

“But how do you know that? I don’t even know that,” Kenny admitted. “Craig might have feelings for someone else.”

“Gee, this is getting complicated,” Butters murmured. Then, his eyes lit up. “Well, Cartman’s plan is meant to impress Craig and get him to like you right? Why don’t we crank the plan up a notch? Show Craig the real Kenny, master of horribly convoluted plans!”

“I don’t know about this anymore,” Kenny sighed. “But Stan seems to think we should do the same thing.”

Butters grabbed his friend’s hands and stared him down. “Kenny, I know you better than anyone, right?” Kenny nodded and Butters continued, “You’re one of the best-est people I know. And, goshdarnit, I know Craig must see it too! And even if he doesn’t, Kenny, he’s missing out.”

Kenny smiled. “Thanks, Butters.”

“Besides, I know Craig likes you back,” Butters said, dropping Kenny’s hands. “He’s your Soulmate.”

Butters hummed as he opened up his pencil case and took out his calculator and a couple of highlighters. Butters’ notebook was filled with highlighter doodles.

“Do you mind if I take a look at those?” Kenny asked after a moment of hesitation. He motioned for the questionnaires, Butters bit his lip.

“Gosh, are you sure Kenny? Some of them are a little…inappropriate.”

Kenny eyed the boy for a moment before he smirked. “I want to know what people are writing about my soulmate.”

Butters gave up the papers. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Cartman walked into class and sat down behind Kenny. Kenny and Butters turned around on their chairs so that they were facing him.

“We need to talk, Cartman,” Kenny said once Cartman was settled.

Cartman was chewing a piece of gum rather loudly. “What is it, Poor Boy? Or should I say, Poor Boy who runs off buses because he can’t take a joke.”

Kenny sighed. “Look, man. We need to move forward in the plan. I don’t need to know everything about Craig to know that I could be losing him to someone else.”

Cartman tilted his head, “Someone else is interested in Tucker?”

Butters bit his lip before saying, “Kenny thinks Craig and Tweek might still be a thing— “

“So I need to make sure everyone knows he’s mine,” Kenny finished determinedly.

Cartman groaned. “But Kiiiiiinnnneeeeeyyy, that’s not how it woooooorrrrrkkkksss.”

“We’ve been waiting too long, Cartman!”

“That’s because you went too far in the plan.”

“Th-That’s n-not the point!” Kenny sputtered. “There’s literally no correlation.”

“I-I th-think that K-Kenny has enough information to go through with step two,” Butters said cautiously. “You should consider it, Eric.”

“Cartman, I’m ready for this,” Kenny insisted.

Cartman stopped them both. “Fine, fine. Jesus. But we do it my way this time—according to my plans and not Kinny’s stupid improv.”

“Wh-what do you mean, Eric?” Butters asked.

“Go big or go home, Butters. If this thing with Tweek is true, we have to _really_ impress,” Cartman replied, taking the gum out of his mouth and sticking it underneath his desk.

Kenny still looked uncertain and Cartman noticed. He linked his fingers together in a way only an evil cartoon villain can. “Kinny, how long have we been friends?”

This caught Kenny by surprise. “Uh, since we were five?”

“And how many badass plans have we made since then?”

“Th-that’s uncountable, Eric!” Butters exclaimed before Kenny could say anything.

“Exactly, Butters. We’ve always been like this,” Cartman said dramatically. Kenny and Butters were mesmerized. “And if Tucker’s Kinny’s Soulmate, he has to accept that. And all the other emotional baggage Kenny carries around.”

Kenny’s eye twitched, “What baggage, fatass?”

“Agreed,” Butters grinned and Kenny gaped at the enthusiastic blond. “Kenny, you have to admit you have a little baggage.”

“We gotta do something big,” Cartman paused, “and incredibly gay.”

 

 

Craig was in the cafeteria when it happened.  He was sitting facing Tweek, nonchalantly listening to Token’s history rant when he took a bite of his sandwich. Tweek was still worrying about his nose bruising so Craig made sure the bag of ice the nurse gave him was right by his side so that the blond stopped worrying. He heard the sound of someone getting up on one of the cafeteria tables behind him.

“Can I get everyone’s attention?” Was asked and Craig paled considerably. He turned around slowly to see Kenny Fucking McCormick standing on the table he, Cartman, Stan, and Kyle were seated at. His white shirt was still spotted with Craig’s blood and Craig felt part of him leap with excitement.

“Alright, great! I just wanna let everyone in on the tea.” Kenny’s hand shot out and pointed at Craig. The black haired boy stiffened. “This guy, right here. His name’s Craig and I am totally in love with him."

Craig's heart stopped and he heard Clyde’s voice yell out, “Kenny, what the fu— “

“And you know what?” Kenny exclaimed. His arms crossed over his chest like a spoiled child. “He’s _my_ Soulmate so if I see anyone deciding to play games I might have to smack a bitch. In conclusion, nobody fucks with Craig Tucker, got it?”

And the damn cafeteria of South Park High exploded. Not literally. Everyone was talking, staring, causing the heat of a thousand suns to burn Craig Tucker into the ground. Kenny’s little disturbance also caught the attention of one Mr. Mackey who was supervising during lunch period. Craig looked away and stared down the cafeteria table. He felt his cheeks heat up with some unknown emotion.

“M-Mr. McCormick, it’s time to get off the table, m’kay? Y-you and Craig have detention after school, m’kay.”

“Mr. Mackey, Craig didn’t even do anything,” Token claimed.

“C-C-Cray-Craig’s with Ke-Keh-Kehn-Kehn-Kenny?” Jimmy asked.

“H-how c-could you not—Gah!—t-tell me Craig? Oh, god. Now everyone’s st-staring at us, Jesus Christ,” He heard Tweek mumble frantically.

“It’s a really long story, Jimmy,” Clyde said.

“H-he told y-you?” Jimmy gasped. 

Craig got up, surprising all those around him. He lifted himself up from the cafeteria bench, turned to Kenny, and approached him. Kenny hopped off the table and stood in front of Craig. Without hesitation, Craig punched Kenny in the stomach, causing the blond to bend forward in pain.

“You are such an asshole, McCormick,” Craig growled and marched out of the cafeteria. Craig decided he needed a smoke more than anything.

 

 

When he finally re-entered the school building, smelling of nicotine and with his nails chewed to the rim, third period was starting. Craig walked clumsily to English class and noticed that he was being given more attention than he was used to. The eyes on him made his skin prickle. Kenny made sure that whatever was left of Craig’s invisibility was torn down and burned. Maybe it was added payback for what happened at the party.

Craig made it to class before the final bell and slipped in. His teacher, Ms. Carrie (which was her first name and not her last name), had given the class assigned seats in order to get to know the students. She was a new teacher and Craig didn’t have much to say about her.

English class was the only class Craig and Kenny shared besides gym and Craig wasn’t exactly pleased about having to deal with Kenny right after he blew the lid off to the entire school. Ms. Carrie started her lecture about how to properly analyze a piece of poetry when Kenny walked in, apologized quickly, and took his seat behind Craig. As he passed the black haired boy, Kenny winked. The fucking nerve.

Craig could feel Kenny staring already and they weren’t even five minutes into the lesson.

_Why did you do that?_ Craig asked through their link as he hastily scribbled some notes on a lined sheet of paper.

_Do what?_ Kenny answered. _Oh, you mean the cafeteria thing? Why do you think I did it, honeybunch?_

“One thing you should consider when writing a poem is the context behind the poem,” Ms. Carries voice rang out. Craig wrote, ‘poem analysis—context’

_Don’t call me that,_ He snapped.

_Fine. I did it ‘cause I thought you’d like it. You did tell Stan you’re into PDA._

_I did not—wait, is that seriously how you got this idea?_

_Besides, I’m getting tired of the competition. Nice punch by the way, I was winded for, like, fifteen minutes. Totally makes up for your bloody nose._

Craig turned and looked over his shoulder at the blond boy who eyed him boldly. He turned away just as quickly. _What are you even talking about? You have no competition._

He heard Kenny snort quietly and shift in his chair. _You have no idea, do you?_

“---does the poet’s life or point of view come into the poem? Would the poem change in meaning depending on if the writer was homosexual or took part in a certain religious sect?” Ms. Carrie continued. Craig wrote down ‘perspectives, opinions, and stuff’.

_What are you going on about?_ Craig demanded.

_Annie Knitts says you have the best jawline out of the guys in our grade. I read that from a questionnaire Butters made._

_So what? That means nothing, McCormick,_ Craig seethed _When did he have time to make a questionnaire?_

_Millie Larson once groped your ass in the hallway. I bet she told the other girls it was firm._ Kenny replied solidly.

“Are they a part of a movement or a certain period of time? Another thing to consider is writing style and— “

Craig vaguely remembered groping occurring but he had brushed it off due to the fact that both he and Millie were standing in a crowded hallway and maybe her hand slipped or something. He wrote a half-hearted ‘time period’.

Kenny continued. _Not to mention Lola and Jenny Simmons who quote ‘think you probably have the best thighs in South Park High’ unquote. They also said some other things which I don’t find appropriate to share. Then, Wendy and her whole, lemme get you a towel shit. They think you’re hot._

“—the title of a poem can give a bit away too. Is the title vague and ambiguous or is it easy to interpret? What does that say about the poem?”

Craig’s cheeks warmed up. He took a moment to scratch at the back of his hairline and Kenny answered for him, _You’re dense, aren’t you?_

_No, I’m not,_ He countered, quickly writing ‘title gives details’.

_Don’t worry, I’m happy you are. That means you aren’t looking at anyone else._

A shiver ran down Craig’s back. He heard Kenny hum behind him. _Fuck you, McCormick._

_That’s the plan, dude._ Kenny chuckled and Craig all but rolled his eyes. _Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at my body, Craig. It only happens every now and then but you think I’m pretty, don’t you?_

“Can the reader pinpoint an exact time and location in the poem and does that benefit its meaning? You’re allowed to disagree with an author’s choice, just explain why you think that way.”

Craig rubbed his face to hide the blush that was spreading up his neck. He could tell that Kenny noticed his embarrassment. _I haven’t thought about you once, assface._

_Fucking liar,_ Kenny responded, anything but hatred in his thoughts. _Every time I read those thoughts, they make me wanna bend you over the nearest fucking flat surface._

The sudden change in tone caught Craig off guard. His voice, even in the link, was low and intimidating. He hid his face in his hands, hoping that no one was seeing what was happening. Behind him, he heard Kenny’s breathing hitch softly.

_You can’t lie to me, Tucker. I saw the way you looked at my ass during gym when I was walking away from you. You do it so subconsciously too but I feel it and it makes me want you more than anything. Fuck._ The curse was said in a breathy voice and Craig suddenly understood what was happening. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

Kenny was jacking off. In the back of class. In the middle of an English lecture. And he was broadcasting it to Craig.

Kenny sighed, _\--And you think so much through our link. You gimme no fuckin’ breaks._

He chuckled breathily. Not loud enough for the teacher to hear as she was writing ‘monologue’ in shaky cursive on the whiteboard. Craig was dizzy, his blood flowing in two opposing directions. He could feel Kenny’s arousal bursting out of him and Craig’s heart stuttered in response. He would be lying if he said that the sudden heat he felt from the blond didn’t cause his pants to become two times tighter than usual.

“Is the speaker an active character within the poem? One example can be seen in the poem, “My Last Duchess” by Robert Browning—“

_C-Craig, you feel it don’t you,_ Kenny’s mind rasped and Craig’s head hit his desk softly as the other boy’s affirmative.

Suddenly, a series of images flew through Craig’s mind. Craig and Kenny kissing, passionately. Not like the kiss they shared. Deeper and harder than any kiss Craig had ever had. They got lewder and lewder until he heard a soft gasp come from Kenny.

Craig turned around to look at him and he was absolutely wrecked. His face was ruddy and his freckles seemed to pop out even more on his heated skin. His bottom lip was clasped between his front teeth and he looked like he wanted to scream. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead. His hand was alternating between quick and short jerks to long and teasing. His eyes found Craig’s and Craig heard a soft grunt fall from Kenny’s mouth. He was focused, a furrow in his brow that Craig found insanely attractive.

Then Craig’ mind spilled, _you look pretty like that_ and Kenny gasped, his eyes shooting upwards again. Craig turned in his chair, surprised that he let something like that slip.  He heard a contented sigh escape from Kenny.

_G-god—Craig, please…look at me._

He wanted Craig to look and the thought went straight to Craig’s groin. He looked over his shoulder and caught Kenny’s eager gaze. At this point, Kenny had stuffed the sleeve of his parka into his mouth to keep from making any noise. Craig suddenly felt a pang of curiosity flood through his head, _Go faster, Kenny._

Kenny released a breath through his nose but kept his half-lidded eyes on Craig as he sped up his hand motions. He shivered. _I-I—Jesus Christ, Craig...!_

Craig watched as Kenny’s motions stuttered and he twitched once before melting into his chair. All the tension in his body slipped away and he took a couple of seconds to breathe through his nose before releasing his parka from his mouth. Craig could see the sloppy, slobbery spot where Kenny bit down and held on for dear life. Craig decided he looked even better in the aftermath, blinking sleepily. His shoulders were heaving with the weight of the air coming and going from his lungs.

Craig turned away, grabbed his back pack, walked to the front of the class and out the door.

“Mr. Tucker!” Ms. Carrie called after him, “if you need to go to the bathroom, take the hall pass!”

Craig nearly bolted to the bathroom, locking himself in a stall. He grabbed a bit of toilet paper and reached into his boxers. He finished himself off quickly and cleaned himself up. He really needed another fucking smoke. Kenny was going to make a chain-smoker out of him.

And he had to deal with his upcoming detention. With Kenny Mc-fucking-Cormick in attendance. 

“Fuck. My. Life.”


End file.
